


truce

by ohmygodwhy



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt, Ensemble Cast, F/M, M/M, Slow Build, bc i mean they're in hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4400297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygodwhy/pseuds/ohmygodwhy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd rescued Nico di Angelo. They'd gotten to Annabeth. But, as usual, everything spiraled. </p><p>His hand wrapped around Nico’s and his other clawed at the stone and managed to dig into a small ledge, leaving him hanging by his fingertips- they found themselves in a very similar situation to the one they saved their friends from a few moments ago. </p><p>And then they were falling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one-way trip

 

 _“_ _And the man who dreamt of flight has tripped and fallen in a hole.”_

 —Shaun Hick        

.

.

.                                                                                       

So they were falling.

Jason wasn’t sure exactly how it happened- it was a big messy blur, the few moments before everything went to hell- wasn’t sure exactly _what_ was happening.

But they were falling.

They’d rescued Nico di Angelo. Gotten him out of that jar and fought two annoying giants in the process. He was in horrible shape- _Tartarus_ , he had nearly whispered, and no one knew what to say to that; no one knew what to say to him. Jason didn’t know what to think of him and didn’t have much time to dwell on it- they still had to find Annabeth. 

And they had. They’d gotten to Annabeth. She was hurt, yes, hurt and on the verge of collapse, but still standing. Percy was the first one out of the ship, even before it hit the ground, Hazel climbing down the ladder that unfurled after him. But, as usual, there were only a few minutes of relief, even fewer of happiness.

Because the ground was split open and Annabeth was still too far away; there was too much noise and movement; the ship was tilting and the statue wasn’t secure and he was on his way up to help Leo when he heard Annabeth’s scream— and Hazel’s warning and saw Percy lunging for his girlfriend. The statue was forgotten because his friend had spider silk around her ankle and was being dragged towards an ominous pit and he flung common sense overboard and threw himself downwards, speeding through the air and chaos as quickly as he could.

Which wasn’t quick enough.

He saw a flash of blonde and then Annabeth was toppling over the edge, Percy right behind her- and then there was Nico- frail and shaky and not in any condition to be in the middle of everything- stretching his hand out desperately.

“Percy!” he heard him yell—which meant they were still hanging on somehow, they hadn’t fallen yet.

Jason hit the ground running, covering the last few feet on foot and dropping to the ground next to the son of Hades. Nico jumped in surprise.

“...Shit,” was all Jason could conjure up, quickly assessing the situation- Percy barely holding on, fingertips digging into the ledge, Annabeth clinging to his other hand- and knew they were screwed.

Percy must have seen it on his face or heard it in his tone or something, because he just smiled sadly at him.

“It’s cool, man,” he said at the same time Nico croaked, “I can get them,” apparently noticing Jason’s defeat as well.

And before he could ask what he meant or even turn to look at him, the guy was gone. Literally vanishing into the shadows around him cast by the wreckage (crevices in the floor, walls toppled in on themselves, ground still rumbling) and exploding back into existence in midair a few feet into the pit. His boney hand shot out, grabbed Annabeth’s wrist, and then the two of them were gone.

Jason blinked. Percy laughed.

Jason pulled himself together and jumped into action too tilting down and keeping himself suspended in the air to take hold of Percy’s now outstretched hand and yanked him up.

The son of Poseidon laughed again, relived and ecstatic, throwing his arms around him in a tight hug before jumping to his feet.

“Annabeth,” was all he said and Jason nodded.

And then came the blur.

Nico, who Jason had mainly forgotten about in his few precious moments of victory, burst out of the shadows again. He must have come back for Percy, because he reached frantically for a boy who wasn’t there, who was already up and out— he gasped as he caught nothing but air.

And see, a big part of Jason and all of his action was fueled by planning, training, and the other part was all spur of the moment ideas that were basically side effects of being a demigod. Him, brain kicking into overdrive, jumping forwards and over the edge to catch the skinny boy grasping at nothing, was one of those spur of the moment things.

His hand wrapped around Nico’s and his other clawed at the stone and managed to dig into a small ledge, leaving him hanging by his fingertips- they found themselves in a very similar situation to the one they saved their friends from a few moments ago.

“Jason!” Percy shouted, face coming into focus above them- thank the gods he hadn’t run back to the ship yet, “Nico! Shit, shit shit.”

But Percy was too far away. They were screwed- again.

“We’re fine!” he yelled back. They were not fine.

“Jason,” he heard Nico below him; his voice was barely above a whisper, “Let me go. You... you can’t pull me up.”

For the briefest moment, a tiny part of Jason was tempted to- he didn’t know this boy. The other part slapped him across the face and yelled at him because you _never leave anyone behind._

“Like hell,” he shot back, “Can’t you use that shadow thing again?”

“Can’t,” Nico choked, “Weak. Let go.”

Hazel appeared at Percy’s side, out of breath, hair wind-swept across her face, eyes frantic and peering over the edge. She took in the scene before her and inhaled sharply.

“O-oh gods, Nico!” she cried, stretching her arm out- it was even shorter than Nico's had been. 

“Hazel,” he muttered back.

Jason gritted his teeth, arms straining. His mind raced, filtering through ways out and he kept coming up blank. Blank, blank, blank.

“Percy,” he called finally, “I can’t pull us up, not without risking anything.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air, “Find your way there. I don’t know how- maybe Hazel can help. We’ll meet you on the other side.”

He felt Nico tense and saw Percy’s eyes widen in sudden understanding. Hazel choked back a sob, putting a hand over her mouth. 

“…I will.” Percy managed finally. Hazel nodded desperately, clinging to Percy’s arm with shaking hands.

“We will,” she said.

Jason smiled at his friends. Nico’s breath was ragged, mumbling some vague protest that Jason had to tune out before he changed his mind.

And then he let go.

. 

. 

. 

And they were falling.

.

.

.

The wind whipped around him, shirt flapping loosely and eyes stinging, butterflies fluttering hectically in his stomach. He usually liked being in the air, in his father’s domain- but not falling though it, not falling down. He couldn’t see anything; it was too dark. The little bit of light from the world above had dwindled into a white dot and disappeared.

He could’ve tried to fly, he supposed, could’ve tried to save the two of them before it was too late. But Nico was weak and honestly so was he (he’d just dealt with two giants in the Colosseum, okay) and maybe it was too late already. They were weak and they were being pulled in _by something_ , being pulled in by a powerful, malevolent force and Jason had the slightest idea of what might be waiting for them. Especially if Nico was anything to go by.

“No, no no no no n-no _no_ _no_ …” was one of the only things Jason could hear, it was murmured over and over and over again, unsteady and breathless and terrified.

Jason was pretty terrified himself.

They were falling into Tartarus.

And Nico had barely gotten out, he realized with a start.

Nico would know what to do, know how to survive- he’d almost gotten to the doors, right? He’d survived- half-dead and barely holding himself together, but he’d survived.

They could survive. They _would_ survive. They had to.

“We’ll be okay.” He said quietly; it was quickly swept up and lost in the darkness around them, but it was loud enough to be heard.

“You don’t know that.” Nico said back, voice cracking with the effort- he was still weak, so weak, would he even be able to stand?

His hand, which had already wrapped around Jason’s, tightened painfully; whether it was nerves or frustration, Jason didn’t know, but he was sort of glad he had something to hold on to.

“I know you can get us to the doors,” 

“Please, you don’t _trust_ me,” Nico snapped, “W-why are you even here? You don’t even _know_ me.”

Jason paused. He'd barely met the guy, barely trusted him; he wasn’t quite sure why he’d jumped after him (it was because of the terror on his face when he realized there was nothing to reach for, the instincts that caught up with him because someone right in front of him was going to fall and he couldn’t just watch it happen).

But he had, and this was where they were. And they’d do what they could do. 

“We’ll be okay.” He said again; it was all he could really say, and even then it was paper thin and idealistic. He squeezed Nico’s hand in a way he hoped was comforting.

Nico exhaled harshly; he seemed close to tears.

And Jason did the only things he knew to do in the ways of comfort, the only thing that had worked countless times before on little kids at camp, on him when he was younger- and actions spoke louder than words, right? He reached out blindly, arm twisting this way and that in the wind, until he found what he assumed to be Nico’s very boney shoulder (the son of Hades flinched at the touch, his other hand coming up to grip Jason’s wrist).

“We’ll be okay.” He muttered again. He eased Nico’s trembling fingers off of his wrist, fumbling around and managing to wrap an arm around Nico’s back, pulling him against his chest. Nico went rigid, stone-still in his arms.

“What are you—?”

“We’ll be okay,” he repeated, and he wasn’t sure if he was talking to Nico or himself, wasn’t sure if he was doing this more for Nico’s comfort or his own. He felt Nico shudder, shaking his head and trying to twist out of Jason’s grasp, all sharp angles and rough jackets. 

“We’ll be okay,”

After a few more minutes struggle, Nico either tired himself out or simply gave up- though he didn’t relax in the slightest. To Jason’s surprise, he felt a cold hand grip the back of his shirt.

“We’ll be okay,” Jason whispered again, and Nico was small and shaking against him and Jason felt the terror setting in.

And they were falling.

.

.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been falling, or what they would do once they reached the bottom- he was honestly beginning to wonder if there even _was_ a bottom, if maybe they’d just fall forever.

His mind was all over the place. He was in the middle of imagining what exactly hell would look like, when he realized he wouldn’t have to.

The air around them was growing thicker, sulfurous and dirty. The lighting was changing, the darkness was fading into a deep red and suddenly it was flooding his vision- the hole they were falling down opened into a huge chasm, vast and rocky and he could barely breathe.

The ground was approaching at an alarming rate- or rather, they were approaching it.

“Slow us down!” Nico yelled- though it was more of a scratchy mutter. Jason glanced down at him, now that he could see more clearly, and for a moment, he didn’t know what he meant. Until he remembered that oh yeah, he could fly and stuff.

He gave a brief nod before he closed his eyes, focusing on gathering what energy he had left. There was a fraction of a second where nothing happened, where his heart almost beat out of his chest, before the force of stopping midair hit them with harsh recoil.

It didn’t keep them suspended- the pull was too strong- but it slowed the speed of their descent just a bit. Nico said something he couldn’t make out and then they hit the ground.

_Hard._

Jason’s head snapped back, slamming against the ground and he lost his grip on Nico completely- the kid flew in the opposite direction, hitting the floor in all the worst places (he heard a deafening _crack_ of some sort) and rolling to a stop.

 _“Gods,”_ Jason groaned. He pushed himself onto his back, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand (something warm and unfortunately familiar was caked across it- the ground was like broken glass), trying to clear his blurry vision.

His head hurt- _really_ hurt- and his ears were ringing. He struggled to sit up. When he could finally see straight, he wished he couldn’t.

The world before him was immense and cracking, ridden with sharp jagged mountains and rocky terrain and a few rivers and a whole lot of red- red and black and fiery clouds, blurring together into something worse than anything he’d imagined on the way down.

He was staring Tartarus in the face. And he felt like it was staring back at him.

This was the opposite of the sky, far far underground. He felt like he was suffocating already.

He heard a grunt of pain nearby and remembered he wasn’t alone here- and felt a ridiculous amount of relief flood his veins at the thought; he didn’t want to be alone down here. He stumbled to his feet, brushing the shards off of his pants and flexing his bleeding hand.

Nico was lying in a heap about ten feet away, arms shaking in exertion as he tried to push himself up. Jason rushed over to him.

“Nico,” he said, bending down to help him up. Nico slapped his hand away, managing to jump to his feet- and promptly stumbled over himself.

Jason reached out to catch him, but Nico flinched away violently.

“Don’t _touch_ me,” he spat, gripping his torso and steadying himself.

Jason held his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said slowly. As skinny and sickly as he looked, the glare the kid was giving was enough to make him take a step back.

Nico inhaled quickly, averting his gaze and glancing around him, eyes darting from place to place, recognition and disbelief shining clearly. There was a tear in the fabric of his left sleeve and an arm wrapped around his stomach- he was swaying slightly, but his legs didn’t seem to be injured; the snap he heard hadn’t been one of them. Judging by the way he was curling into himself, he suspected it was probably a rib.

The son of Hades raked a hand through his hair, breath coming in inconsistent huffs, “ _Shit,”_ he breathed, “Shit, shit, no, shit, _merda,”_ his eyes were wide, wild, nails digging into his scalp and jeez that looked like it hurt.

“Nico, calm down,” he said, sounding a lot calmer than he felt because someone had to be calm- his mind was reeling, trying to take everything in at once. “It’s alright,” though he knew it was probably not all right.

Nico let out a sharp laugh, humorless and barking, and spun to face Jason.

“Alright? It’s _all right_? We’re gonna _die,_ Jason Grace.” He was quivering, fingers digging into his side and his eyes were gleaming- raw and terrified.

Jason flinched, “We’re not going to-“

“Don’t say that,” Nico cut in, “You don’t know what’s _down_ here,” his body moved erratically with each annunciated word, shot backwards and forwards, “I just got out. It-it won’t let me go a second time, it,” he shook his head frantically, his attention draw back to the scenery around him, “won’t let me go a second time. I-I can’t, I can’t do this, shit I can’t do this _, gods_ -“ and Jason was sure he was talking more to himself than he was to him.

He seemed to be having trouble breathing. He seemed on the verge of breaking down.

Jason felt helpless watching because honestly, he couldn’t blame him. He himself had been down here all of maybe ten minutes, and he was already wishing for the sky. Nico had already been through all of this, already seen things probably worse than anything Jason had (and he would see those things soon enough, wouldn’t he?). He’d finally gotten out- barely skin and bones, barely sane- and he’d fallen right back in.

“Nico,” he tried again, and it took almost all of his self-control not to shy away from the glare Nico shot him, “I know you’re scared-“

“Don’t talk down to me,” he hissed.

“-and I am too,” he continued, “I’m terrified. But we’re gonna get through this- we _have_ to get through this.” Nico fell silent. Something in the distance growled, “You went looking for the doors before, right?”

Nico glare fell from his face, “And I failed.”

“But you know where they are,”

Nico gave a short nod that quickly turned into a shake of his head, “But it’s not- it’s impossible. There are too many of them,”

Jason tried his best to give a grin, “I bet we can take ‘em,” and it withered under the other’s blank stare. He wondered if anyone had ever tried to smile down here.

“You made it once,” he offered.

“Barely. And that was by myself.”

“And now you have someone with you. Nico, I will get you to those doors.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Nico snapped— half-heartedly, voice laced with fatigue; he’d run out of fire, and looked absolutely exhausted.

“You’re not alone this time,” Jason added softly, “And you know where they are. You can lead us there, right?”

“I…” Nico’s eyebrows furrowed in confliction, and he ran a hand through his hair again, “Yeah,” he said finally, “Yeah.”

“Then we can make it. You have to trust me on this,” he knew it was a stretch, trusting a person (who wasn’t sure they quite trusted you; who wasn't quite sure what they were asking) to have your back in the pits of hell, but he was desperate. This entire situation was desperate.

Nico looked at him for a very long time. The world around them groaned and shifted and the rivers ran their course and his gaze was piercing and guarded and seemed to peer into him. And he wasn’t quite sure what to make of him, this small anxious tired son of Hades.

He didn’t think Nico knew what to make of Jason either.

Nico sighed, “Fine. Okay. Fine.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, rubbing at his forehead, “But you have to trust me too. You have to follow me, and keep your guard up. _Always_ keep your guard up.”

Jason was slightly taken aback by his tone- serious, commanding, with an underlying air of experience. He nodded. Nico nodded slightly back.

Jason turned, looked around, and took a deep refreshing breath of acidic air that burned its way down his throat. 

And they took their first steps into hell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright i know this is basically an impossible scenario, but i saw a prompt thingy and it struck me as a really cool idea?? an extremely painful sad idea, but still a cool one. 
> 
> to be honest, i'm equally excited and wary about the whole thing and the way i'm setting it up but ??? and i've actually taken the time to write out a few chapters ahead for once so i have some leeway time.
> 
> feedback is always v appreciated!


	2. doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He could blame the whole damn world but it wouldn’t change the fact that he was walking along the skin of a monster again."

 

 _“You know that feeling when you tip your chair and begin to fall backward? The sensation was something like that, mixed with self recrimination and the fear of death.”_  

—Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man’s Fear 

.

.

. 

Nico di Angelo was not having a very good day.

He was having a very horrible day, a day he wanted to wake up from and forget and pretend never happened, that had to be a nightmare of some sort- the last few days (days or weeks?) were of course a part of one big nightmare. If they were, he wondered what part of his mind could come with something like this— he wondered about that a lot.

The only good part about the day was probably waking up to see vaguely familiar, blurry people fighting, realizing that he could see them, _hear_ them and the air was clean and he felt like he’d been chewed up and spit out and run over but he was out of the jar he was _out of the jar_ \- there were no bronze walls around him cutting off his oxygen and he was _alive_ and and—

and Hazel seemed glad to see him and Percy seemed kind of angry and also sad and everyone else seemed off-put and on edge and he seemed kind of on the verge of collapse. And he was hungry and tired and hated to be the bearer of bad news (bad bad news and he didn’t want to talk about it, but he hadn’t come all this way to back out and _lie)_  but he was alive and not dead and there was air in his lungs and Hazel holding him upright and he was _alive._

And words like _Tartarus_ and _monsters_ and _Doors of Death_ were mood killers but he was alive and they were alive and if they wanted to stay alive they had to know what was coming.

But none of them knew what was coming, not when Annabeth was being pulled to her death and Percy was set on falling with her, not when his legs were certainly going to give out before he got to them, not when Percy gave that stupid sad smile and he knew he was prepared to let go and fall with Annabeth, not when Percy was going to fall and fall and fall into the place Nico had just escaped, not when _Percy_ was going to fall and he couldn’t just let that happen- not even when he hated him and didn’t hate him and didn’t want to see him and wanted to see him and he was going to fall.

And so he didn’t let that happen (and he knew if Percy and Annabeth had been the ones to go he’d have wished he could’ve taken their places because he didn’t want them to see the bottom of that pit) and then he was the one dangling in Annabeth’s place and— and Jason Grace was hanging in Percy’s and none of them knew what was coming, see.

(And he remembered Jason Grace from Camp Jupiter, back before he disappeared— and it was kind of funny; they’d switched places before, Jason and Percy, and here they were doing it again- on purpose this time, or maybe by accident. He’d seen him once or twice and Hazel looked up to him a little bit and he seemed nice and an all-around good person. He’d seen him once or twice and steered clear because all-around good people are not people who want to associate with all-around ‘unclear about how to categorize themselves’ people. Jason Grace was not someone who should jump after him and not someone who should be dangling off the edge because he was important and stuff and the others needed him. Everyone needed him. Everyone did not need Nico di Angelo. He should’ve probably let go).

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he voluntarily sent himself plummeting into the depths of something unknown, into something that should probably stay unknown to all-around good people.

All-around good people were self-sacrificing and self-sacrificing all-around good people did not usually have happy endings- he’d talked to enough ancient Greek heroes to know as much.

.

.

.

They fell. He felt his throat constrict and it wasn’t _fair_ \- it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair.

They fell, and he sort of wished he’d stayed in that jar.

.

.

.

The glass-like ground cracked under his feet with each step he took. Mountains and holes and caves came into focus and faded away and the air was stale and acidic and he wished he could say this was unfamiliar to him. But it was very familiar. The taste of poison had stayed lodged in the back of his throat and the wood of the ship floor had been such a different terrain- solid and stable and normal. And this was all very familiar, very very familiar.

And he was on edge, very very on edge, never keeping his gaze on one thing for more than a few seconds at a time because something was going to happen, something was always going to happen, something was going to jump out and he wouldn’t be fast enough- surviving this long had been luck and a lot of running— a lot of running and he wasn’t sure he could run again if he had to and he would definitely have to.

He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that Jason was following close behind him. He could hear it, feel it- he hadn’t been in the presence of another person for what felt like a very long time, and he’d forgotten how _present_ they were. He could hear Jason’s breath- it was nice not to be the only thing breathing, even if he wasn’t doing a very good job himself. Breathing was hard.

He wondered how the son of Jupiter was taking everything so far. He’d seemed calm before- _seemed_ ; seemed and things were not ever what they seemed; he’d said it himself that he was terrified and Nico didn’t doubt that for one second.

It was terrifying. He didn’t want to be here.

He didn’t want to be here- ever ever ever again; if this whole thing was some sort of cosmic joke, the cosmos had a sick sense of humor.

He heard something rustle. He stopped abruptly, hand flying to the handle of his sword and he looked around quickly. Jason, probably caught off-guard, walked into him— he hadn’t been trailing very far behind, he supposed.

He jumped back quickly, muttering an apology, took one look at the way Nico was standing- ready to spring into action if he had to- and placed a hand on his gladius. He glanced at him questioningly- he obviously hadn’t heard whatever it was Nico had- and Nico gestured to the area around them, trying to use only his eyes. Jason must’ve understood, because he nodded, glancing around slowly.

Minutes ticked by. Nico was grateful Jason wasn’t the type to speak his questions out loud and disturb the tense silence they had going. He was beginning to wonder if he had really heard anything when he heard it again: a soft shuffling, claws against stone, claws that could kill them and were probably waiting to. Jason heard it too this time, shooting him a surprised- worried, tense- look.

Silence. Shuffle. Silence. Scratch. Silence, rustle, silence rustle- _yell_.

The creature rustling around with its annoying claws had probably decided it’d done enough waiting; a manticore (no no no he _hated_ these things, he didn’t need this right now) sprung out from behind a pile of stones, face contorted in an ugly smile.

It was jumping vaguely in Jason’s direction, body stretched out and tail poised to strike and that’s about at far as it got. Nico hated these things. A jump and a slice and a stab and a hit of adrenaline and the monster was gone (the whole thing was practically reflexive at this point. He wondered vaguely if he could fight in his sleep. It’d be pretty convenient).

Gone, but not for long. Not for long.

“Come on,” he muttered, ignoring Jason’s look of surprise and something like awe, gesturing for him to keep going. “It’ll reform.”

And that got Jason going.

“Right. Birthplace of monsters.” He said anxiously, falling beside Nico- who was doing his best to move quickly. Doing his best but his best wasn’t _fast_ enough; his legs were wobbly and his chest hurt (rib, hopefully just fractured or something, he could deal with that; he always dealt with these things) and he _wasn’t moving fast enough_.

And they couldn’t stay in one place for too long- they smelled like demigod in a pit full of _monsters;_ it was practically a free meal. And he was- _they_ were, he realized violently- they were both children of the big three; Hades and _Jupiter_ of all gods and their odds of survival just dwindled down to nothing. It had been hard enough out-running them on his own, but two of them- _two_ of them- it was too much, it was too obvious, they couldn’t _do this._

“What is it?” Jason asked quietly, and Nico jumped; he’d forgotten the other demigod was here for a moment- ridiculous.

“ _What?”_ he snapped, annoyed.

“Something’s wrong.”

“We’re in Tartarus. Everything’s wrong.”

Jason didn’t seem to have anything to say to that.

.

.

So they walked. And they ran a little bit, and they walked some more. They didn’t do much talking- they had nothing to talk about and Nico wasn’t much of a people person anyways.

And Nico was right- they were holding up a sign, a sign with bright flashing neon lights and drawing monsters in like deadly moths to a weak flame. A weak weak flame.

He wondered for the millionth time how exactly he’d ended up down here again. He heard Jason slash at something behind him and oh, yeah, that was how.

He also wondered who he was allowed to blame for the whole thing- Percy had been the damn idiot he was trying to help and Jason had been the one to let go. He had been the one to pull Percy up before he could get to him. Then again, Nico had been the one to wear himself out in the first place- the one to delay their rescue of Annabeth; maybe if they’d gone to get her first they would all be okay right now, maybe everything would have worked out better.

Wishful thinking. Things didn’t work out better.

He could blame the whole damn world but it wouldn’t change the fact that he was walking along the skin of a monster again.

He was tired, so so very tired and he could feel his legs begin to shake. He doubted Jason was doing much better. He was so so very tired and he knew they wouldn’t make it- they couldn’t and they wouldn’t and they were going to die down here, there were a million possible ways to go and they were going to—

He heard the crackle of a fire. Fire.

And this was what he’d been looking for.

He shuffled forwards, ignoring the pain that shot up his chest and the way his head was pounding, clambered up the slope of a small hill and felt relief flow freely through his body. He had never been happier to see a river full of fire.

Jason stopped beside him (he had stopped walking _into_ him finally, after Nico abruptly stopped at least three other times), glancing at the river and then back at Nico, that confused look on his face again. Nico rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything, just swung his feet over the edge, braced himself, and slid down (rock scrapped against the back of his legs and dug into his back but he couldn’t care less), gesturing for the son of Jupiter to follow.

“The River Phlegethon,” he said in favor of explanation. He raised an arm up like he was revealing a brand new car. His voice was scratchy from disuse and didn’t really sound like his own.

Jason raised an eyebrow. Nico rubbed at his eyes. He didn’t want to _talk;_ he just wanted to get this over with because they couldn’t stay here very long.

“It’s used to punish the wicked. It’s also been called the River of Healing. You drink from it.” He said, giving the shortest explanation he could come up with.

Jason’s eyebrows shot up even higher, expression shocked and sort of appalled.

“You want me to drink _fire_?”

Nico shrugged, “I don’t _want_ you to do anything,” he stepped forward and shoved an arm into the river, ignoring the squeak of warning from Jason; he grimaced, cupping some of the fire in his hand, and brought it to his lips (he hated it, he wanted to throw up, he’d never get the damn taste out of his mouth). “But like I said, it’s used to punish the wicked. It’ll heal your injuries. It’ll keep you alive.”

“So you can carry on with the torture forever,” Jason finished morosely, finally catching on. Nico wondered if he’d ever learned _anything_ about the Underworld in that camp of his.

“Basically.” he agreed quietly.

Jason sighed. He looked drained. Nico was glad they’d gotten here now rather than later.

He hoped he hadn’t looked as ridiculous as Jason did when he first choked down a handful of fire; then again, no one was here to see it, so it didn’t really matter what they looked like. But Jason did look kind of ridiculous, nearly spitting it out, pressing a hand against his mouth to make himself swallow it- he looked at Nico like he was afraid he was just tricked into poisoning himself, but Nico just raised an eyebrow. Yeah, he looked ridiculous, but not ridiculous enough for a smile.

A few minutes later, the skepticism fell from Jason’s face- he was obviously feeling the results a little now. So was Nico; he could breathe just a little bit better, breathe without a red hot sting in his chest, and he could think a little more clearly. He was still hungry though. And very tired. The river kept you alive; no one said it actually helped you feel better.

.

.

“Any other special rivers I should know about?” Jason asked, falling into step beside Nico rather than staying behind him. A few more sips of fire and they’d been on their way; he decided it’d be best to stay close to the river though.

Nico glanced over at him wearily, not liking the way his voice bounced around the air and demanded to be heard- maybe it was a Roman thing- and not exactly sure why said Roman was trying to talk to him; maybe that was a Roman thing too- or a Jason Grace thing, “You don’t know anything about the Underworld, do you?”

Jason shrugged. “I know it’s where you go when you die, but other than that, not really.”

Nico focused back on the ground ahead of them; his fingers were stiff and sore from gripping his sword handle so tightly, “You’ve seen the river of fire.” He began slowly, “Then there’s the Cocytus, river of lamentation; the Acheron, river of woe; the Styx, and the Lethe-“

“River of forgetfulness, right? Amnesia?” Jason cut in.

Nico grunted in confirmation, “Souls go there when they choose to be reborn. Though I’m not sure how many of them flow down here. All of them, probably.”

“Can we drink from any of them?”

Nico shot him a look so dry he hoped it rivaled the Sahara.

“Alright, okay, just asking.” He said quickly, “So I take it there isn’t anything to eat down here, either.”

Nico snorted. “Fire water is all there is, unless you want to resort to eating the monsters.”

Jason paused, like he couldn’t tell if Nico was being serious or not. An uncomfortable look swept across his features and he shifted his feet nervously, “You didn’t… resort to… _that,_ did you?”

Nico blinked. Jason looked so serious he didn’t know whether to laugh or slap the guy across the face. He was great at lashing out at people though, and he hadn’t felt like laughing in a while.

“ _No_.” he snapped, drawing his jacket tighter around himself, “I may not be the same person I was before but I wasn’t _that_ desperate. I didn’t ‘ _lose my mind’_.”

“What? I never said- you just seemed-“

“Seemed _what?”_ Nico glared, daring him to say something, “We’ll see how long _you_ last down here.”

And it was a horrible thing to say, really.

Nico hated it.

There was a long stretch of silence, nothing but footsteps and fire crackling and far away monster noises.

This was a lot easier when he didn’t have to converse with other people, a lot easier when he wasn’t actually _worrying_ about what he said. He didn’t have to worry, didn’t have to care. This guy _chose_ to fall with him; he never asked him to. He wasn’t particularly sorry about yelling at him earlier either. He didn’t have to make friends with him; he just had to survive.

“I’m sorry.”

Nico jumped at the sound. He spun around to look at Jason, who was looking at him all apologetically and being confusing. Why was _he_ the one apologizing? Nico blinked again.

He didn’t understand Jason Grace.

He hated not understanding things.

“Whatever,” Nico muttered, turning away sharply and walking on.

“But-“

“I said whatever. It’s fine.”

And Jason was either content with that answer, or caught onto Nico’s annoyance. Or both. He was just glad it was quiet again.

.

.

Firewater could only keep a person going for so long.

Nico wasn’t sure exactly _how_ long; there were no sunsets down here, no sunrises, and it wasn’t like he had a watch (he didn’t know if the watch would even work in a place like this), so there was no way to know how long they’d really been walking.

He measured time in the way he felt, in the number of monsters that crossed his path, in intervals of nearly falling asleep as he walked and not being able to fall asleep when he stopped. Time was irrelevant down here. 

He didn’t know what time it was when Jason nearly stumbled over him, only that he’d cut down a bird thing (he couldn’t care less about what it was called; the name didn’t matter when it exploded into dust) a little while ago.

“Can we rest for a minute?” Jason asked finally.

Nico took a look around and hesitantly nodded. “Just for a minute.” He said, “And not out here.”

He scouted the area around them- rock, crevice _, cave_ \- and tugged at Jason’s arm (the guy just blinked blearily at him and followed), leading them towards the opening in the rock. It was a tight fit. But once they got into it, it opened into a much larger dome.

(A potentially good or bad thing- what if there was something living in here? What if it would attack them once they let their guards down? What if-?)

Jason slumped against the wall, sliding to the ground with a sigh of relief (he wouldn’t be so relieved if he knew what he was sitting on, knew what he was leaning on—). He stretched his arms out gratefully.

Nico hesitated, glancing behind him and at all corners of the cave, before he slowly sat down next to him. It was dark, but not too dark. The entrance was large enough to let some of the red-ish light pour in, but not large enough to attract too much attention. He breathed a small sigh and relaxed his tense shoulders for a moment.

Until he glanced back over at the boy sitting next to him and found him nodding off. He nudged him in the shoulder with the hilt of his sword.

Jason sat up quickly, hand flying to his weapon, before he noticed it was just Nico. He groaned, “Aren’t you tired?”

Nico’s eyes hardened, and he looked away, “Exhausted. But trust me, you don’t want to sleep down here.”

He could feel Jason’s eyes on him, considering him. Quiet breath and gazes burning into the side of his face and he flinched when he felt a warm hand settle on top of his own.

“Just for a minute,” Jason murmured softly. His hand curled around Nico’s, firm and gentle around his cold skeletal one, and surprising himself and maybe Jason, Nico didn’t feel the urge to pull away.

It was grounding, the feeling of someone else’s hand.

He was next to someone living, and he was maybe alive too.

That was good.

(He wondered what the son of Jupiter was playing at).

Nico didn’t say anything, which Jason probably took as grudging agreement. He felt Jason lean back against the wall (couldn’t be comfortable, not with all the pointy bits) and heard a soft exhale as he probably closed his eyes again.

Nico didn’t sleep. He didn’t want to. He was tired as hell, but he didn’t want to sleep in hell. He’d made that mistake once, and he wouldn’t make it again, thank you very much. And someone had to keep watch; someone had to make sure they weren’t both killed in their sleep.

Jason stirred slightly, and he turned to look at him. He’d seen him once or twice, yes, sort of met him on the Argo II, but he’d never looked at him before, not really. He’d never had the chance to, never really wanted to. The guy had plenty of people looking at him already.

Blond hair, probably longer than it used to be; weird little scar above his lip; blue blue eyes that were closed right now; purple (now dirty) shirt- he looked just like Nico would expect a son of Jupiter to look, minus the lip scar and the hair. He looked out of place down here, whereas Nico was sure he looked right at home, right where he belonged. His breath came in soft huffs, filling the cave, and he shifted his head around every few minutes. Nico was amazed he could sleep so calmly against the wall of a cave in Tartarus.

And Nico didn’t sleep. Instead, he sat there in the sort of dark with one hand holding the sword in his lap and the other holding the hand of a son of Jupiter as he slept. 

And he didn’t let go— he let Jason sleep much longer than he had originally intended— didn’t pull away, barely moved, because he was alive, right here in this little cave he was alive, even if he wouldn’t be for much longer. And Jason Grace was offering comfort to an odd person he didn’t know, and he decided that yeah, he was going to get Jason Grace the hell out of hell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, i wasn't expecting such a positive reaction to the first chapter??? thank you so much
> 
> the povs are going to alternate between jason and nico (though i'm not sure if i'm gonna take a look at the others up on the ship at some point yet), and i have at least the next three (?) chapters written out already. not sure when i'll be updating, but it'll be soon-ish.
> 
> thanks for reading, and feedback is always v appreciated!


	3. disillusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They’re all alive,” Nico said quietly. Jason nearly jumped out of his skin. The kid had barely spoken a word to him since they started up their journey again, nothing but the occasional, “Look out,” or “Shit,” or “Behind you.”

 

_“Fear is contagious. You can catch it. Sometimes all it takes is for someone to say that they’re scared for the fear to become real.”_

—Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book

.

.

.

Jason didn’t dream.

Which surprised him, and kind of relieved him. It was just dark, those few minutes he slept, a heavy, tangible kind of dark. So maybe, in a way, that sort of counted as a dream.

He woke up feeling not refreshed at _all,_ with a sore neck and dry throat and stiff back. He groaned back into consciousness, making the mistake of breathing in too deeply and stinging the inside of his mouth. As soon as he stirred, Nico pulled his hand away like Jason’s was a burning coal or something equally as alarming.

Jason tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, “How long was I out?” he asked groggily, because it felt like a lot longer than a minute or two.

Nico made a noncommittal hum, “Not like I have a watch.” 

He glanced over to see Nico sitting stiffly with his boney knees drawn up to his chest, sword propped up against the wall next to him.

“Did you sleep at all?”

Nico didn’t even bother humming this time, just picked at a rip in his jeans.

“I can take the next watch, if you want,” he offered, “And you can-“

“We don’t have that kind of time.” The son of Hades cut in tersely, pushing himself to his feet. There were a few seconds were he looked like he might fall over, but he steadied himself with a hand against the wall, “We’ve already been in one place for too long.”

Jason glanced over to the cave entrance on instinct; there was nothing there, but he stood up quickly, ignoring the way his head spun for a few seconds. He really, really, _really_ wished he were in the ship’s beautiful kitchen.

“Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

Nico paused, before his eyebrows pulled together into a glare like he was remembering he was supposed to be angry.

“Sorry for letting you _sleep.”_ His words were clipped and irritated, “Now let’s go.”

And he didn’t _mean it like that_  but he made sure his weapon was secure anyways and followed the son of Hades out of the cave.

In a way, the cave had helped even out his mind a little bit- it was a familiar setting, a familiar feeling; he’d camped out in various caves plenty of times. It helped him find a small sense of normalcy in the whole thing— that was quickly wiped away and replaced by hell once again

Everything seemed a little different than it had before, a little warmer, maybe, a little brighter. Every crevice or mountain he saw was a little different from the others, but also painfully identical.

They stopped for some more firewater- Jason’s new least favorite drink- and it was almost impressive how easily Nico downed it- no sputtering, no choking, no tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. And then he remembered how and why Nico had gotten so used to it, and tried to focus on swallowing the damn stuff instead. It felt like his throat was burning up from the inside out and sat like a poisonous rock in his stomach, but he knew it would help- it was the only thing they had as fuel down here, right?

And he was suddenly very glad that Nico was here with him. Not the fact that he was down here, that was not _anything_ to be glad about. But simply glad that it was Nico. He had no idea that rivers full of fire could help heal or which direction they should head in, no idea how he would survive down here, if he would survive down here- if he had fallen in alone, there was a great chance he would be dead by now.

He was glad Nico was here and glad Nico was willing to help, grateful Nico was able to keep going somehow.

Still, it wasn’t like he could just _thank_ the guy for falling in with him- _Hey, I’m glad you’re in hell with me. I mean I know you just got out, but I’m glad you’re here to lead me through it and relive it all over again, thanks man._

But he was grateful.

.

.

For about the fifth time since he had woken up again, Jason’s thoughts drifted away from him, to Leo and Piper. To Thalia. 

They would meet them on the other side. That’s what Percy and Hazel promised; that’s what Jason promised. They would meet in the middle. But he couldn’t help but wonder if either party could really make it to the doors.

Nico knew what he was doing, and he was sure the others could find their way to Epirus. But time was a factor, and so were the number of monsters— an _army_ , Nico had told them, standing between them and the doors, and obstacles standing between his friends and Epirus. There were so many factors and so little time.

“They’re all alive,” Nico said quietly. Jason nearly jumped out of his skin. The kid had barely spoken a word to him since they started up their journey again, nothing but the occasional, “Look out,” or “Shit,” or “Behind you.”

“What?” he replied once he’d gathered his dignity.

“Everyone on the ship,” he spoke without looking at him, almost hesitantly, no trace of the anger he was sort of expecting; anger seemed to be a common reaction for the kid, “They're alive. You seemed worried.”

Jason blinked. He didn’t think Nico was paying very close attention to him, didn’t think he was paying very close attention to anything in particular- his eyes were all over the place and his fingers never seemed to stop moving.

“How can you tell?” he didn’t mean for it to come out sarcastically, but his voice was kind of scratchy.

Nico hunched his shoulders and shrugged.

Silence. There was a roar in the distance. The two of them walked a little faster.

“I mean, how do you know they’re alive?” Jason asked, waiting until Nico’s shoulders weren’t drawn up so tightly (he was still tense, but then again so was Jason).

Nico paused, “One of the many perks of being a son of Hades,” he said, though he didn’t sound all that thrilled about it, “I can feel when people die." Ah, there it was.

“Oh,” Jason muttered, “That…”

“Sucks?” the son of Hades gave a grin that was more of a grimace; it pulled too harshly on his lips and didn’t seem to fit his face right, “Yeah, I know. Comes in handy sometimes, but… I wouldn’t trust my judgment very much right now,”

“What d’you mean?”

Nico seemed to think on his words; Jason counted three beats of breath before he finally responded, “Last time, y’know, _before,_ I…” he paused like he wasn’t sure if he should continue or not; Jason glanced at him, “I felt the life force of the people I care about flicker and die.”

Nico seemed very interested in the ground.

“Wasn’t true and all, but,” he shrugged, trying to play it off like it was nothing when it was obviously not nothing, “wouldn’t trust my judgment. This place is great at messing with you.”

And Jason wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. What _could_ he even say to that?

Nico, sensing this, seemed to shrink into himself, picking at a cuticle and scanning the area around them for the thousandth time.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, like he was regretting saying anything.

It probably wasn’t easy, talking about Tartarus- but they were _in_ Tartarus, so maybe it was really the perfect time.

“S’ fine,” he replied quietly. ‘I’m sorry about that’ wouldn’t really cut it, and he doubted Nico would appreciate apologies anyway.

They hiked over two small mountains and ran from a cyclops (big and ugly and unreasonably interested in crushing them under its foot; he never thought he’d be able to refer to running from a cyclops as normal, but even in the short time he’d been down here, he learned that you have to take these things at face value) before Nico finally spoke again. Jason was caught off guard for the second time.

“What kind of fancy son of Jupiter skills do _you_ have?” it was very quiet and Jason would’ve missed it if he weren’t paying attention to every sound he heard.

“I mean, since you know some of mine- you don’t have to share if you don’t want to though,” this time it was quick and forced; he seemed to have a very hard time making himself talk, like he wasn’t sure he should. He wondered how long the kid had gone without decent conversation, if the whole ‘spends a bunch of time in the Underworld’ thing Percy had mentioned was true.

Jason was actually pretty happy about it though; the silence between them was getting too loud. It was a welcomed difference from glares and frantic mumbling. He wondered if Nico was as desperate for a sense of regularity as Jason was.

He thought for a moment, “I can fly, which is pretty damn cool, but you already know that,” Nico nodded, looking very relieved that he’d answered, “I’ve summoned lighting a few times, and I’m pretty sure I can sort of control the weather. Flying is definitely the best part of it all, though.” 

Nico snorted. Jason looked over at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry, it’s just…” Nico’s eyes darted up to meet Jason’s and then dropped back to the ground, “That’s… that’s really cool.” There was an underlying _longing_ in his tone, Jason noticed; he wondered if the guy really wished he could fly or something. He doubted that was it though.

“What about you?” Jason asked, wanting to cheer him up somehow, “Percy told me you could like, talk to ghosts and stuff,”

It had the _opposite_ effect of what he was going for. Whatever calm, if a little anxious, air the son of Hades had drifted into disappeared; his face contorted into a scowl and he glared at the ground like it was the cause of all his problems (which it sort of was, in a way), crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, I bet Percy told you all about me,” he was caught off guard by the thick bitterness in his voice. He wasn’t sure how to handle the sudden change in demeanor. “Besides,” he ground out the word through his teeth, “it’s not all pretty lightning and air and stuff; I doubt you wanna hear about it.”

Jason felt like he was treading on ice; Nico’s tense shoulders and crossed arms screamed defensive, but he’d finally felt like they were getting somewhere. It was the most he’d said since they fell. The most he’d said in probably a long time.

“I wanna hear about it,” he said carefully.

Nico looked over at him, “Why?”

Jason shrugged, “I’ve never met a child of Hades- y’know other than Hazel, but that’s Pluto. I bet you can do some pretty cool stuff,”

Nico laughed- more of a dry cough, “ _Creepy_ is the word most people would use,”

Jason just looked at him expectantly; Nico sighed sharply.

“Yeah, I can talk to ghosts.” He muttered tentatively, “I can control them, if I want to. Summon skeletons and stuff,” He kept glancing at Jason every few words; he kept his expression pleasantly curious, “Shadow travel comes in handy, too.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up at that, “ _Shadow travel?_ So _that’s_ what that was!”

Nico blinked, like he wasn’t sure if Jason was mocking him or not, “Yeah."

“Dude, that’s awesome,” Jason grinned, “Can you go anywhere in the world?”

Nico nodded, “As far as I know, yeah. It took a while to get the hang of, though. The first time I tried it I fell asleep for a week,”

Jason’s smile widened, and he fought the urge to laugh. He didn’t want Nico to think he was laughing at _him._

“First time I summoned lighting I almost electrocuted myself. My clothes smelled like smoke for forever.”

He wasn’t sure if it was just a trick of the weird lighting or if he’d imagined it, but he thought he saw the ghost of a smile flicker across Nico’s lips for the first time. Maybe smiling in Tartarus; that was a cause Jason could get behind.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a few seconds, until an idea popped into Jason’s head so suddenly he actually gasped.

“Can you shadow travel us out of here?” he asked excitedly, not sure why Nico hadn’t suggested it.

The smile he might’ve seen disappeared and the son of Hades ducked his head, practically receding into himself, “I can’t. I’ve tried, but I…the shadows here…” he trailed off. “I can’t. Sorry.”

Eyes downcast, hand fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket- he was the picture of guilt. Jason couldn’t help the heavy pit of disappointment that joined the fire in his stomach, but he knew it wasn’t Nico’s fault.

“It’s fine,” he said, trying for nonchalance that neither of them really bought, “We’ll get out anyways.”

Nico just shrugged in response.

.

.

His throat was dry and burning and his tongue felt like sandpaper, there were blisters forming on the bottoms of his feet and covering most of the skin on his arms, he was ridiculously hungry and his clothes felt too heavy on his body. All in all, Jason wanted to collapse right there and sleep for a good week or so.

Nico looked worse, all sunken eyes and sickly skin and trembling legs, his clothes _engulfed_ him; it seemed like a miracle that he was able to lift his sword, let alone save Jason’s ass more times than he could count. He looked like he was dying where he stood, but he was fighting for his life.

Nico was at least two years younger than him, and he fought with the ease of a professional. He didn’t know whether to find that amazing or sad. A little bit of both.

He was about to ask Nico if they could stop for some more delicious fire, when he heard a sound that made him stop in his tracks.

_“Jason!”_

The sudden scream shot through his heart and up his spine and spread with an icy chill throughout his body and his head swiveled to the side, searching for the source of the scream- and he didn’t waste a second before he spun on his heels and _sprinted_ in the direction of the voice, ignoring the faint “Shit, Jason wait!” from Nico.

“Thalia!” he shouted back, voice sounding hoarse and desperate even to himself because Thalia was _here_ and he had _never_ heard her yell like that before, never heard her sound so _terrified_ , she was _here_ she was _hurting she was screaming she was here_.

 _“Jason!”_ It was Piper this time, but it came from behind him instead of in front of him and he almost tripped over himself turning around.

“Jason, stop!” he heard Nico, frantic and scared and stumbling after him. “It’s not-“

He was cut off by Thalia again and Jason couldn’t pinpoint where she was- in front of him behind him and every which way and his head hurt and she was going to die Piper was going to they were going to _die_ and-

Something small barreled into him, arms wrapping his around his torso from behind and holding him back as he tried to run again- Nico had finally caught up.

“It’s not her, Jason!” Nico practically yelled, gripping the son of Jupiter with everything he had- which was surprisingly a lot, considering the state of everything- and they both tumbled to the ground, “It’s not her, she’s not down here, it’s a harpy, it’s not-“

He was cut off by another scream- _“Nico!”-_ one unfamiliar to Jason, but piercing and terrified all the same- it was obviously not unfamiliar to Nico though; he seemed ready to let go and run for a moment, but Jason felt him shake his head, felt his hair brush against his back sharply and he shuddered.

“It’s not her,” he repeated shakily, hanging tightly to Jason again, who hadn’t given up his struggle, “I-it’s not them, it’s not- Thalia’s with the Hunters and Bianca is _gone_ \- it’s not _them!_ _Please_ , Jason, it’s not,” his voice broke when his name cut through the air again- Jason recognized Hazel’s voice.

And it broke again when he picked up where he left off, over and over and over- “It’s not them, it’s not her, they’re not here,”-another scream; _Percy’s_ this time and he didn’t have time to dwell on why- “it’s not them, it’s not them, please stop,”- until Jason felt his energy dwindle and Nico was probably right of course, he probably knew what he was talking about; they couldn’t be here, they weren’t here, but they sounded so _real_.

Maybe it was something in Nico’s voice, the way it was thick with choked back emotion and so tired, so so tired and Jason was so tired, but he stopped straining against his grip.

He didn’t notice when exactly Nico had buried his head into Jason’s back, his voice barely above a whisper at this point, but by the time he’d drained himself and some of his senses had foggily returned, Nico’s fingers were twisted in the front of shirt and he was shivering.

And they sat there, on the floor of Tartarus, with the cries of people far far away echoing around them and Jason closed his eyes, trying to tune them out. And when the harpies or whatever monster it was decided they’d had enough fun, his fingers were sore from clenching and unclenching and Nico had let go.

Jason looked back to see the son of Hades sitting still, eyes lidded and glazed and staring off somewhere into the shadows. They were rimmed red. He looked as bad as Jason felt.

He reached out to touch his shoulder- Nico flinched horribly, blinking back into reality and looking at Jason blankly.

“It’s not them, Jason,” he murmured, voice rough and quiet.

“I know,” he said back, just as softly.

Nico ran a shaky hand through his hair.

“I know,” Jason said again, and he wasn’t sure who exactly he was talking to anymore. 

Nico was right: this place was great at messing with you.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh i have no idea if harpies do that sorta thing, but that last scene was one of the first ones i wrote, back before i'd even decided i was actually gonna write the whole thing, so i didn't wanna cut it out. i'll try to be more accurate (?) with the different monsters in the later chapters but ??? 
> 
> again, thanks for reading, and feedback is always v appreciated!


	4. indignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason did that thing where you attempt to act like you weren’t doing something but end up looking too casual, too forced, and he gave up on that within a second. “I just… are you sure you’re okay?” he asked for the second time, “You really scared me back there,”

 

_“It is a true story,” the monster said, “Many things that are true feel like a cheat. Kingdoms get the princes they deserve, farmers’ daughters die for no reason, and sometimes witches merit saving. Quite often, actually. You’d be surprised.”_

  —Patrick Ness, A Monster Calls

.

.

.

“Hey, Nico?” Jason’s voice was rough and tired, throat slightly raw from all the yelling. Nico glanced over at him, eyes half open- it was too much effort to keep his eyelids up- and didn’t say anything, a silent permission to continue. “Why was Percy one of the voices?”

(The two of them had dragged themselves over a rocky hill to the river again, choking down the stuff Nico had long since begun to hate. There were a few high pillar-like rocks leaning on each other, forming a sort of makeshift wall that they’d hidden themselves behind for the time being, this time on Nico’s request. Jason didn’t seem to need to be asked twice.

Nico had mumbled out a half-coherent explanation about the harpies. They mimic the voices of the people you care about, twist your worst fears against you and mimic their voices and draw you in close enough to attack (and they’d almost gotten him once or twice- when he’d heard Bianca’s voice for the first time he _knew_ it wasn’t her, but he hadn’t heard her voice in so _long_ \- and when it was his mother’s he nearly cried; nearly cried when he found out it _wasn’t_ her too). Jason had just nodded mutely; he hoped the guy would be okay. The whole thing kind of really fucking sucked, but you got used to it.)

Nico froze, thoughts screeching to a stop and anxiety spiking through the scale that had broken probably a long time ago. It had been Percy’s voice a few times in the past too, yeah, and the fact that it _was_ scared him more than the sound of his yells did, because he didn’t want it to be Percy. It wasn’t fair.

He didn’t say anything, opting to stare at a crack in the ground— not a crack, but one of _those_ , one of the disgusting blisters some disgusting monster was being reborn into, forming for who knows how many times. It was small, and partially covered by another stone. He hoped Jason couldn’t see it. He seemed to be hoping a lot of things revolving around Jason’s wellbeing lately. He wasn’t sure what to think about that, other than he had made his decision and he was damn well sticking to it.

He could feel Jason’s gaze on him, feel those bright blue eyes staring at him and he didn’t like it.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said finally, and it echoed off of the pillar wall things, “I don’t want to talk about it,”

“I just…” he paused; Nico hoped he would pause there forever, “I sort of thought you hated him or something,”

Nico laughed, a heaving breath that just stung his throat and sounded more like the cough of a dying man, “I don’t hate Percy Jackson.”

He snuck a glance over at Jason, who was looking at him curiously. He quickly looked away, his hand finding its way to the ring on his finger subconsciously- a habit he’d picked up.

Jason was still just staring at him, piecing together _something_ in that blond head of his and Nico wanted to reach into it and pluck whatever ideas they were straight out of him. It didn’t matter, didn’t matter, he wanted him to leave it alone, throw the ideas into the fire because he would be _disgusted if he knew, maybe he’d leave you here to die by yourself, maybe he’d tell Hazel once he got out, maybe he’d tell **him** , maybe he’d_—

“It doesn’t matter,” he said again, cutting off his goddamn mind, cutting off the goddamn pit, because that’s probably what it was. Yeah.

Thankfully, Jason let the subject drop. He didn’t seem to be in the mood to pry, and Nico definitely wasn’t in the mood to think, wasn’t in the mood to think or talk or exist; he wanted to not be here anymore, maybe drift off to sleep and wake up back in Italy in that little house he sort of remembered, and how great would it be if this whole damn thing was a dream, if Percy Jackson didn’t exist and neither did the gods, if his sister wasn’t dead and if his mother wasn’t dead and if his father was just an ordinary guy who didn’t wear a fucking cloak of damned souls and he was drifting way off track. He didn’t like to think about these things; this was all very real, and he needed to remember that. Even if he didn’t really want to.

“We should get going,” and Nico was surprised it was Jason to suggest it this time. He was adjusting (dealing with, trying to survive) to the whole thing, the way things worked, fairly quickly. That was good. Or maybe it wasn’t. Nico didn't know.

Whether it was good or bad or nothing at all, Nico agreed.

“Yeah,” he replied, though he still didn’t take the hand Jason held out for him, opting to push himself shakily to his feet.

“How close are we? To the doors?” Jason asked, dusting himself off so he could play off the hand thing, probably.

Nico closed his eyes, focusing on the energy around them. He tried to tune out the worst of it. Though the worst of it was also sort of what he was looking for. A few moments later he opened his eyes again to meet Jason’s.

“We’re _close_ , but… we’re also pretty far,”

“What does _that_ mean?”

Nico shrugged half-heartedly, not in the mood, “It means what it means.”

Jason just hummed, sounding troubled. Nico felt pretty troubled too.

.

.

There were things he really didn’t like about this place, about Tartarus- though to be fair he didn’t really like _anything_ about Tartarus.

He didn’t like the way he felt like he was always being watched by something, being watched by _it,_ by the damn pit itself; didn’t like the way things stuck to the bottoms of his shoes sometimes, some sort of mud maybe, something sticky and gross and it was trying to keep him stuck; didn’t like the air or the sounds, the growls and shrieks and laughs and _screams_ —

(all kinds of screams, really, monsters and people who weren’t here, his own sometimes, though those times he didn’t realize he doing the screaming until his throat hurt or was rendered so dry that his voice cracked and fell to the ground halfway out of his mouth)

—and he didn’t like it when the growls and shrieks and laughs and screams were directed towards him, when he was running and running and running and could never seem to shake them, when he was alone and curled up in a hole and trying to block out the sounds and the air and the things watching him; didn’t like the taunts that came sometimes and he wasn’t sure where they came _from,_ from what or from whom but they were there and they _knew_ him, knew every dirty little secret and knew _the_ dirty little secret and he _didn’t like this place_ and—

“Nico!?”

Nico’s head jerked up to see a very distressed looking Jason Grace with his hands hovering near his shoulders and a panicked worry etched across his face.

He blinked, slowly, letting the world seep back into his vision and noticed with a detached sort of fascination that his hands were shaking and he felt out of breath, like he’d just run a marathon or something.

“What?” he murmured, eyebrows furrowing, “I don’t…”

Jason breathed a sigh of relief when Nico finally spoke, though he didn’t look any less concerned. “You sort of just… stopped walking.” He explained, “I figured you’d just heard something again but,” his eyes were searching Nico’s for something he wasn’t sure of, “you wouldn’t respond. You were just _staring_ at… _something._ And you started breathing too quickly and I thought maybe you were- y’know- having a… a panic attack or something.” He said the last bit hesitantly and ridiculously softly.

And Nico felt the familiar feeling of shame spread from his cheeks to his neck and sink into his skin. He’d felt it one too many times- when he said something stupid or got one of those disappointed looks from his dad or when Percy looked at him like he was a traitor.

He ducked his head, looking anywhere but at the boy standing in front of him. He was embarrassed, more than a little self-conscious, and verging on the edge of angry— what kind of demigod- what kind of _scary son of Hades_ was he if he couldn’t keep himself and his stupid emotions in check? He didn’t want anyone- least of all Jason Grace- to see him like that, to see him as weak. Nico di Angelo was not weak.

But the way Jason was looking at him was making him uncomfortable; he had enough things _staring_ at him already.

At least he’d had the decency to remember not to touch him.

“Sorry,” is what he eventually mumbled, still not meeting his eyes.

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Nico shot back. He was not fine. He didn’t really care though. “Let’s just keep moving.”

Jason looked like he wanted to say something else, but just grunted in agreement.

And keep moving they did, up mountains, around mountains, winding around rivers they didn’t want to get too close to, running from things, killing some things that couldn’t really be killed. It was an unfortunately familiar routine at this point.

What was not familiar was Jason’s gaze boring into him as he walked.

He could feel it, feel the sky focused on his back- Jason’s eyes were _full_ of the sky, the sharp blue than glinted when the sun was out- and the sky was meant for other places, places that were not his back. He felt it as he he pushed his way through a thicket of trees with his sword when they walked into the darkened forest with the pale ground, felt it as he nearly tripped and fell over his feet, felt it as he ran a hand through his messy messy hair to keep himself alert.

“What’s your problem?” he caved in finally, unable to stand the staring any longer.

Jason did that thing where you attempt to act like you weren’t doing something but end up looking too casual, too forced, and he gave up on that within a second. “I just… are you sure you’re okay?” he asked for the second time, “You really scared me back there,”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I do best.” He said bitterly, “Why do you even care?”

The son of Jupiter blinked, like he didn’t understand why Nico was asking that question. “We’re friends, right? Of course I care.”

Nico scoffed. “That's a little sudden. I wouldn’t call us friends.”

“Well I mean, we fell into Tartarus together. I think that automatically makes us friends,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“It really doesn’t. This is temporary. We watch each other's backs, and that's it." He said flatly, “And I don’t need a goddamn therapy session in the middle of hell.”

Jason sighed, sounding exasperated, “Nico.”

“Grace.”

"Nico."

_"Grace."_

“ _Nico,”_

Nico glared.

“Come on, Nico-“

“No,” he interrupted, his last bit of patience disappearing, “We don’t have time to sit around and talk about how not okay I am. Because I’m not- how the hell _could_ I be? I just sat in a goddamn _jar_ for eight days and now I’m right back here.” His arm was stretched out in exasperation and irritation, brushing against the black bark of one of the trees.

He glared at him, one of the glares he’d perfected over the years and used sparingly. Jason stared right back. Nico was the first one to look away.

“Let’s just go, okay? I think we’re getting close.”

Jason didn’t argue this time.

.

.

The forest was unlike one he’d ever seen (okay, yeah, he’d sort of ran through it a few days ago but that didn’t count), and he’d seen quite a lot of forests. The trees were black, the kind of black that engulfed his father’s palace and sat in his eyes. The ground underneath his feet was level- no rocks, no holes, no imperfections- and pale, a sharp contrast that hurt his eyes. It was a thick forest, but manageable- they could twist through the trees easily, but they couldn’t see very far in front of them. It was unsettling.

And they’d barely made it out before they ran into another thing Nico really didn’t like about this place.

The nasty creatures were similar to the Furies, with leathery wings and talons and old contorted faces. But these things didn’t work for his father, these things didn’t listen to him- their voices were collective and grating like nails on a chalkboard. These things did not reason and these things really didn’t like him either.

“Shit,” he muttered, nudging Jason, who hadn’t needed it; he’d already spun around at the sound of flapping wings. His face was a calm mask of preparation, but Nico didn’t miss the worried glance he shot him.

“What are you?” Jason asked. Nico was taken aback by how level his voice was, how it didn’t betray any emotion other than the general ‘I’m going to kill you,’ tone demigods used too often. Years of training, probably. He _was_ a praetor.

 _We are the arai,_ the aria seemed very eager to answer, a collective voice that Nico had heard one too many times, _The curses. Born from the last wishes of the dying. We have many curses share with you._

Jason didn’t seem nearly as happy with that answer as they were. Instead, he readied his gladius and shifted feet into a stance that would allow him to attack at a second’s notice. Nico put a hand lightly over Jason’s, shaking his head and pushing the weapon down.

“Don’t kill them,” he warned, not taking his eyes off of the monsters, “They’re curses, remember? You might be the one who ends up dead.”

He saw Jason nod out of the corner of his eye. Nico bit his lip, and held out three fingers as discreetly as possible, pressing them against Jason’s hand, which he hadn’t let go of yet. A second, he lifted a finger. Another second, he lifted another finger. When the third second came, he gritted his teeth and lifted his finger and hoped Jason understood what he was trying to say.

Fortunately, he did.

As soon as Nico let go, the two of them were spinning on their heels and running- running and running and running as fast as they could. He saw Jason nearly stumble over a rock, but he caught himself at the last moment. Nico was too caught up in not losing his breath that he couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief, but he felt it in his chest, pounding along with his heart.

Unfortunately, the arai seemed to get the message too.

He heard them laughing gleefully behind them, laughing and laughing like they were having the time of their little ever-lasting lives. And no matter how fast they ran, the damn things were hovering above them, just laughing and laughing and laughing. One of them finally decided to make a move, swooping down inhumanly fast right in front of Jason, who really had no choice but to swing and cut it down and Nico would yell at him for being an idiot if it was actually his fault.

Nico was surprised when the son of Jupiter didn’t fall to the ground bleeding to death or something. Instead, he stopped dead in his tracks glanced around wildly, looking scared and shocked and _betrayed_ about something Nico couldn’t see.

“Piper?” he asked, sounding confused and more than a little hurt, “What? What are you-? Shit, wait,” he jumped to the side like he was avoiding a strike.

_King Midas, left for dead in his home and killed by his own possessions. He wished the same on you; you will be killed by your friends._

Jason looked bewildered, splitting his attention between the invisible people attacking him and the not invisible monsters attacking him.

“Stop, I don’t want to-“ he made a sound like he had been hit, but there was no wound to show for it; that was good at least. Still, seeing invisible people was bad.

“Jason, dammit, they’re not _there,”_ he called, and it sounded awfully repetitive.

Jason didn’t pay any attention to him- Nico wasn’t entirely sure he’d even heard him, and he didn’t have time to ask. He heard the sound of something sharp slicing through the air and turned, almost a second too late, and sliced through the winged lady before he could remind himself to duck instead.

There was a searing white-hot pain that shot horizontally across his upper left thigh, and his legs gave out underneath him.

_An echidna you sliced the tail off of during the Battle of Manhattan._

That explained why he felt like his leg was being _sawed off,_ slowly and cruelly and he honestly couldn’t remember half of the things he’d done in that war two years ago.

_Two years ago._

Had it really been that long? Yeah, he supposed, it had. He had killed a lot of things in the heat of everything, hadn’t been paying very close attention to what they were- it’s hard to focus on one thing for very long when you’re barely twelve years old and surrounded by fighting and yelling and watching too many monsters and demigods dropping like flies all around you. It had been a pretty hectic year for him. You forget the little things.

He struggled to his feet, barely dodging another arai, trying to ignore the way his leg burned like it was on fire and demanded to be felt- he was just glad it was just the sensation, glad his leg wasn’t actually gone. He vaguely wondered what would happen if he did loose a leg, if there would be a lot of blood or if it would just _disappear_. He brushed the thought aside.

He’d dealt with these things before, managed to get away with only one or two curses. They could do this. They could do this.

He really hoped they could do this.

He heard another hiss from Jason, who was still dodging imaginary weapons and somehow managing to keep away from the demon-ladies at the same time- and this time Nico barely had time to lift his sword up when one of the damn things swooped down. He wanted to slap himself and his reflexes as it cut clean through.

And then he felt everything slow to a stop.

Jason frozen mid-swing and arai frozen mid-laugh and all of Tartarus working in slow motion. He felt the air pulled harshly from his lungs, leaving him breathless and gasping; he felt a burning anguish in the back of his throat, hot like anger and cold like revenge and then everything sped up again, sped up too quickly and he was being pulled, yanked into the ground- up to his feet and then up to his knees and he was being pulled.

 _Minos,_ the arai spoke slowly this time _,_ _an old mentor._ _Not dead, exactly, but sent back to the Underworld by the one he thought he had control over. Swept away and into the Earth. He cursed you to feel the same._

There was a thick knot of hatred resurfacing in his chest for the asshole  who manipulated him all those years ago- but he couldn't focus on that right now. Because he couldn’t get his damn lungs to work, clawing at the stone around him and he was down to his waist now- there was nowhere left to go beneath the ground of Tartarus, nowhere left to go and he was going to buried alive and swallowed up and forgotten, there would be no trace of his existence left, no one to remember him and he couldn’t _breathe._

 _He couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn't breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t_ —

He was wrenched from his daze (he was on his knees, clutching at his throat and the ground around him and his fingers were bleeding from the effort but he wasn’t sinking thank _gods_ ) by a sharp, drawn out yell. His head shot up to see Jason loosing his grip on his weapon and falling forwards.

There was no slow motion or dramatic music like they showed in the movies; it was quick and terrifying and before Nico knew what was happening, Jason was on the ground and there was red staining his shirt and spreading quickly.

There was no curse this time; he could see one of the arai’s talons dripping with something he didn’t want to think about.

“Jason!” he yelled, pushing himself up only to stumble again, scraping his knees along the stone (not the stone, not the stone, it wasn’t _stone)._ And the monster was diving down again, talons sharp and at the ready and he wouldn’t _get there in time, dammit._

 _You could do it._ A part of him thought.

He inhaled sharply. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to he didn’t want to but Jason was going to die.

He couldn’t die, Nico couldn’t let him die, the whole reason he was even trying at this point was because to he had to get the son of Jupiter out and the others needed him and the world needed him and Nico didn’t need another death on his hands.

He was going to die and everything— everything was made of dust, monsters were made of dust and hatred and blood maybe— they were made of dust and dust- dirt- _earth_ was what he _controlled._ He controlled it, he controlled it, he could open it and bend it to his will- he controlled it and he could stop it and—

He raised his heavy arms, almost against his will, and the monsters froze where they were like gray leathery clouds in the poisonous sky. Everything was made of dust and his arms were straining against the monsters’ pull but everything was made of dust and for the first time he could see actually _fear_ shining in the bat-women’s eyes, feel their old old bodies with no heartbeat struggling against his hold on them.

Everything was made of dust and he took one look at Jason, dazed and groaning and _hurt_ on the ground, and that dust was ripped apart.

Ripped apart.

The damn things _exploded_ all at once with _shrieks_ and the curses the monsters held exploded with them and— ripped apart.

He had ripped them apart- Nico looked at his hands- like a- like a monster.

Ripped them apart. He felt like he'd ripped himself apart a little too.

Nico looked at his hands and hated himself and then the world went dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that last part there was inspired loosely from this one headcanon i saw and a part in a fic i read a while ago and i thought it was a p cool idea?? (also as far away as i'm trying to stay from the canon storyline, i just really liked the arai?? it was interesting to go through the books and see the curses the two of them could've collected over the years)
> 
> thank you so much for all the nice comments i live for this stuff
> 
> as always, thank you for reading and feedback is always v appreciated!


	5. overwrought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And then the others didn’t seem to know how to react- to any of it.
> 
> They were all worried and angry and looking for someone to blame. Even Coach Hedge had been far sterner lately."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a shorter chapter

 

_“Life had altered in the wildest possible way, but it was imperative that they act as if nothing at all had happened.”_

—Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

.

.

.

To say that Hazel was worried would be an understatement.

Frantic was a better word to use, maybe terrified, scared out of her mind and all sorts of anxious.

She was leaning restlessly against the ship’s railing on the front deck, hands gripping the rail until her knuckles turned white and foot tapping against the ground as she strained her eyes, waiting and staring at the ocean in front of her and wishing the stupid ship could move faster. Wishing and worrying and feeling completely and utterly useless because her brother was somewhere deep in the earth going through who knows what and she was standing on the deck of a ship far away from him being completely and utterly useless.

A part of her still couldn’t quite believe what had happened- one moment everything was going according to plan and the next, everything descended into chaos. Dizzying, horrible, spiraling chaos and she hadn’t been able to do a _thing._

She’d barely gotten her brother back. He had been half-conscious and frail and far too skinny- gods, he’d been _shaking_ in her arms and she could barely hear his voice when he tried to talk. One of the most powerful demigods she knew, leaning on her because he couldn’t stand up on his own.

And _Tartarus._

Her brother had literally been to hell and back looking for something that could save their quest— and then he’d been locked in a jar, slowly suffocating for _days_ before they’d gotten to him, whispering words that no one knew what to say to and now… now Nico was gone again, falling right back in.

And Hazel didn’t know what to do.

They could get to Epirus; that, she was confident about. A place like that had a pull- she was a child of the Underworld too- and there were maps and stuff they could use. They would make it- they had to make it- because she and Percy had made a promise and so had Jason Grace.

Jason Grace.

Of all the people Nico could’ve fallen in with, it had to be Jason.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Jason- in fact she sort of looked up to him. He’d transformed their legion. No, it was the fact that he had been so adamant on not rescuing Nico. He’d been so suspicious, so convinced that he somehow couldn’t be trusted because he was trying to prevent a war from breaking out— and then he’d actually been confused at everyone’s reactions, acted like doubting her brother was of course the best option. He had a cold air about him and Hazel wasn’t sure what to make of him anymore.

And if he had been so willing to leave Nico to die before, what would happen down _there?_

Would he even care what happened to Nico? Nico was still so weak, he was in no condition to fight- would Jason _leave_ him?

Hazel shook her head frantically, tightening her grip on the railing even through her hand was already close to cramping up. Jason would never leave someone behind, she knew that much. Besides, he had fallen in _willingly_ ; he’d been the one to let go, to make the promise. And Nico could make it through a second time- her brother was strong. She was just being paranoid.

Still, she wished it could’ve been her to go with him instead of the son of Jupiter- which she knew Nico would be angry about, say there was no way he’d let that happen, that she was too important, all the overprotective big brother stuff. But she could still wish; she would still worry.

The dream she’d had last night hadn’t helped calm her nerves at all either.

_She’d seen red, she’d seen rocks and clouds- she couldn’t see very clearly, though; the image was hazy, like an unfocused camera. She’d seen dirty worn out shoes attached to a pair of torn up jeans that hobbled along underneath a- bloody, she saw with horror- purple shirt. It was Jason, she realized as the image became a bit clearer, a tired looking, beaten up, worn down Jason._

_He looked horrible. Messy hair and grimy face and blistered arms- holding a very unconscious Nico. Hazel’s heart raced at the sight of him- her brother looked so small in Jason’s arms, hair bouncing up and down with each wobbly step, head pressed carefully against Jason’s chest instead of lulling back, still very very skinny and far too pale and she had to choke back a sob._

_There were three identical slashes along Jason’s chest, staining his shirt and seeping into the front of Nico’s. He barely seemed conscious, eyes darting here and there like he was looking for something out of the frame and she’d never seen him so on edge before, never seen him so scared, and she wondered vaguely what this would do to him._

_There was a sort of screeching sound in the distance and he picked up his pace, nearly tripping over his own feet and Hazel tried to call out to him, tried to call out to her brother but her voice was gone, lodged in the back of her throat and she wanted to cry, they were alone in the birthplace of monsters and she wanted to see Nico’s sarcastic smile again, wanted to hear the jokes he huffed under his breath when he thought no one was listening, wanted him to kiss her cheek again and she hadn’t realized how attached to him she’d gotten and she wanted to cry._

_She tried to call out again and Jason’s eyes widened like he was realizing something terrible and she woke up out of breath and yelling soundlessly and this time she really did cry._

She’d told the others about it in broken sentences and barely held back tears and Frank’s arm around her shoulder and if Piper hadn’t been scared enough already, she was now. The daughter of Aphrodite had cried quite a bit over the last few days, though Hazel couldn’t blame her, couldn’t say she hadn’t done the same. She knew vaguely that her and Jason’s relationship wasn’t completely sorted out, but they cared for each other a lot.

And then the others didn’t seem to know how to react- to any of it.

They were all worried and angry and looking for someone to blame. Even Coach Hedge had been far sterner lately.

She knew Percy and Annabeth blamed themselves a little; Jason and Nico had taken their places. She knew some of them probably blamed Nico- the son of Jupiter had jumped in to catch him- and felt a surge of anger. No one had dared to say it out loud, dared to say that if Jason had just _let Nico fall_ it would all be fine, but she knew the thoughts were there, and she couldn’t believe people the world called heroes could be so _heartless._

Mostly though, she blamed herself. If she had gotten there faster, if her arm had been longer, if this and if that and a billion other ifs that had her staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night. She blamed herself, and the only thing that kept her from drowning in that guilt was Frank’s constant reassurance, the distraction of monster fighting, and the fact that Nico would be pissed at her for thinking that way, even though she knew he probably thought that way about himself.

She ran a stiff hand through her curls- she’d been gripping the rail so tightly she’d practically had to yank it off- and let out a long breath. The sun was beginning to set, and she could hear a little voice in the back of her head (that sounded remarkably like her brother’s) reminding her that she should probably try to get some sleep. She ignored it in favor of taking a deep breath of salty ocean air, trying to clear her mind a little (it didn’t really work, but it felt nice). She knew if Nico was in her situation, he wouldn’t sleep until they got to her, and she was stuck between doing the same and knowing that she had to keep her strength up if she wanted to be able to fight.

“Hey, Hazel,” she jumped at the voice, spinning around to see Piper standing behind her, offering a weak smile.

Hazel returned it, though she knew it didn’t look genuine.

“Piper,”

She turned back to face the ocean again and saw Piper do the same, wrapping her hands around the railing next to her and breathing deeply.

Hazel snuck a glance at the daughter of Aphrodite. She was beautiful- it was just a fact universally acknowledged really- even with red-ringed eyes and hair messy from tossing and turning restlessly in bed. Even so, Hazel didn’t like seeing her friend (she could call her a friend at this point, right? she liked Piper, she was a good person, even if Hazel didn’t fully trust her boyfriend) sad; she made sadness pretty somehow, but it didn’t fit her face right, it didn’t belong there. Piper was someone who deserved to be happy, Hazel thought. She hoped she was that kind of person too, the kind of person who deserved happiness, but after everything she’d done, she wasn’t so sure.

“Do you think they’ll make it?” Piper’s voice was quiet, small, so uncharacteristically not-Piper-like, shaking Hazel from what had turned into a one-sided staring contest.

Hazel frowned, turning her head to focus back on the calm water. She nodded.

“They’ll make it.” She said simply.

A minute or two of quiet, save for the slight wind that made Hazel shiver and the sound of the boat creaking as the ocean rose and fell.

“How can you know for sure?”

“My brother is strong.” She said slowly, “And he won’t leave Jason behind, even if it means getting himself hurt,” the ‘or worse’ hung in the air, unspoken. “They’ll make it.”

Piper hummed softly in response.

There was another small gust of wind, blowing the few strands of hair that hung in her eyes back. She shivered again, wishing vaguely she had the jacket she’d left back in her cabin, though she didn’t plan on going to get it anytime soon. She saw Piper wrap her arms around herself- she didn’t have a jacket on either, instead wearing light blue pajama pants and a loose t-shirt. Hazel hadn’t changed yet; she wasn’t ready to sleep- the dream from the night before had left her a little shaken.

“What’s he like?” Piper asked after a moment, “Nico?”

Hazel blinked, glancing at Piper curiously. For the first time since their conversation began, Piper turned to look at Hazel too. She was tired and desperate and needed reassurance, probably just as much as Hazel did, that both Jason and Nico were in good hands- in each other’s good hands.

Hazel offered a short smile, leaning forwards so that her head was over the edge and she could see the white foam of the water hitting the side of the ship.

“I haven’t known him for very long,” she began, voice quiet enough that the daughter of Aphrodite had to shuffle a little closer to hear her, “But he was the one who saved me, brought me back to life and stuff,”

Piper let out a soft laugh, “I always forget you’re from the forties,”

Hazel smiled, “It’s weird to think about, even for me. It was so long ago, but sometimes it feels like it all happened yesterday.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was like being… y’know, dead?”

Hazel pursed her lips, “Boring?” she shrugged, “But I was in Asphodel. Since Pluto is my father, I still remembered everything, still had all my memories, but all I could do was _sit_ there.” She glanced at Piper’s downcast eyes, “Demigods usually go to Elysium, though. And you- you’ll definitely make Elysium.”

Piper gave a small smile at that. “So did you just, like, walk out of the Underworld?”

“Basically. Nico lead me out easily, took me to Camp Jupiter. He didn’t stay though, said he didn’t belong there. And now I guess I know why,” she trailed off.

“Because he’s Greek?”

“Probably, yeah. But I don’t think he stayed at the Greek camp very much either.”

 “Why not?”

Hazel looked at the water thoughtfully, “I don’t… well, like Percy mentioned, he’s told me he spends a lot of time in the Underworld, with our father.”

The daughter of Aphrodite’s eyes widened in surprise at that, eyebrows furrowing together.

“That was true?”

“I know how it sounds,” Hazel continued quickly, the need to defend her brother kicking in, “But it’s just… it’s what he’s used to- talking to ghosts more than he talks to people. And if he hadn’t been down there, he never would’ve found me. He wanders around a lot, and he’s not the best at like, _talking_ to people. He knows a lot- he’s been all over the world- and yeah, he didn’t tell anyone about the two camps.” She looked Piper in the eyes with conviction, “But that doesn’t make him a bad person. He’s one of the most powerful demigods I’ve ever met, and he’s kind, even if he comes off as rude at first. He’s _kind_ \- I mean he saved Percy and Annabeth- and he’ll do whatever it takes to get Jason out, because that’s the kind of person he is.”

Piper looked stunned for a moment, multi-colored eyes blown wide, before her expression softened into a smile. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Sorry,” she murmured, “Didn’t mean to be rude. If he’s anything like you, I have no doubt they’ll make it.”

Hazel gave a small grin back, satisfied- albeit a bit embarrassed.

They both turned back to gaze at the ocean again. The sun had set and the moon had taken its place, bright and shiny in the sky. After like seventy years of watching ghosts wander around, the moon was a welcomed difference- it was so much prettier than she remembered. She hoped Nico would see the moon like this again soon.

“Yeah,” she said, “They’ll make it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bc these two didn't get _nearly_ enough bonding time (or screen time for that matter)
> 
> so i'm down to the last two pre-written chapters, and with school quickly approaching i probably won't be able to update as frequently- but i still definitely intend to finish it!!!
> 
> as always, thanks for reading, and feedback is always v appreciated!


	6. migrane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason allowed himself a small smile that Nico would probably scowl at if he were looking at him; probably take it as mockery instead of endearment.
> 
>  
> 
> _Endearment._
> 
>  
> 
> The word rang through Jason’s mind and he didn’t know what to do with it.

 

_“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.”_

—Ernest Hemingway

.

.

.

Jason wasn’t quite sure what to say when Nico woke up again. He wasn’t quite sure he could say anything, considering he was slowly bleeding out on the floor of the nearest hole in the wall.

He was a Roman; he’d gone through years and years of training, enough that he could carry an unconscious Nico half a mile with a slice across his chest, enough that he could do so without collapsing from the effort of it all, enough that he could be thankful and concerned in equal parts that Nico was so light and easy to carry.

He was a Roman and maybe a Greek, a half-conscious Roman/Greek carrying an unconscious son of Hades and splitting his attention between his feet and the ground underneath them and the stretch of land in front of them, looking up every few seconds to find somewhere to hide, _somewhere._

Nico was small- unbelievably small- and frail and shaking in his arms and he wondered in the back of his mind if the boy was dying, if he was going to die, if he had worn himself down too much and used himself to save Jason and he really really didn’t want him to die, not down here, not in a place like this.

And when you were woozy from blood-loss, sometimes you begin to notice things you hadn’t seen before, things like how the ground was shaking under his feet, moving in a rhythm, how all the monsters seemed to flow in one direction like blood circulating through a vein, how holes in the ground were full of translucent writhing half formed _monsters_ and how the air was warm like breath and—

He wasn’t quite sure what to say and neither was Nico, who shot up with a startled “Arai!” before realizing he’d nearly hit his head on the low hanging ceiling of the hole in the wall Jason had found. He looked at Jason for a minute, before something clicked in his head and his gaze dropped down to Jason’s chest, eyes widening to the size of saucers. He wasn’t quite sure what to say, wasn’t sure what to do, and all he could manage was a small,

“It’s alive, Nico.”

And something crossed Nico’s face- a sad, desperate shadow that flickered away as the son of Hades closed his eyes resignedly.

“I know,” he said quietly.

“It’s alive,” he repeated, voice breaking, grasping at Nico’s shirt, trying to get the point across and sort of wanting Nico to contradict him, “It’s _alive,_ Tartarus is alive, Nico, it’s alive, we’re _in_ -“

“I know,” Nico said again, leaning forward, “I know, Jason, I know, just breathe,”

And Jason hadn’t realized he’d stopped until air filled his lungs again. He tried to sit up from where he was leaning on the wall, but Nico gently pushed him back down, doing his best not to touch the wound.

“It’s alive,” he muttered again.

“I know,” Nico muttered back. He didn’t say anything like ‘it’s okay,’ or ‘you’re just imagining things’, things that might’ve made it easier. But in a way, Jason was grateful. He didn’t make Jason feel any crazier than he already felt.

Maybe they were just both crazy together.

Nico focused on his chest again.

“Gods,” Nico breathed, “Shit, Jason,” his hands hovered above the three identical slashes like he wasn’t sure what to do.

Jason tried for a weak smile, tried to focus on the boy in front of him instead of what he was sitting on, “That’s what I said,”

Nico shot him a look between concern and a glare, leaning in to get a closer look in the dim light. From what Jason had seen of it himself, it wasn’t pretty. Granted, he didn’t really study it in great length- he wasn’t scared of blood or anything, but it wasn’t exactly fun to watch yourself die in the body of a gigantic monster god, y’know?

“You’re not gonna die,” Nico snapped, like he was reading his mind. “You’re not going to-“ he cut himself off, pulling back and searching through his pockets, scowling.

“Do you have any ambrosia?” he asked sharply. Jason shrugged. He really should have checked when they’d first fallen in, and he really should be more concerned about this, but he couldn’t find it in him to care very much. Huh. 

Nico was obviously not very pleased with that answer. He scooted closer to Jason in one fluid movement, reaching into his pocket gingerly, like he was afraid it might hurt one of them. When he found nothing, he huffed and switched sides to check the other one. It was a gasp instead of a huff this time and he sat up with purpose.

“Eat it,” he commanded, ripping open the small Ziploc back and shoving the small square of ambrosia in his face. The last one. Jason furrowed his eyebrows.

 “It’s the last one,” he said, but it came out slurred and scratchy.

“Yeah,” Nico said, “So eat it,”

“But what if you need it later, or-“

Nico’s eyes flashed dangerously, “Are you _serious?_ You’re not going to sit there and fucking die. _Eat_ it.”

Jason blinked, and slowly did what he was told. It was an unnecessarily hard task, what with the slowly loosing control over his body thing, but he got it done eventually. He tried to smile again once he was finished.

Nico didn’t smile back.

“That won’t be enough,” he murmured, eyes darting back and forth as he thought. Nico had really dark eyes- they were kind of pretty, he thought absently- he looked really tired too, as tired as Jason felt. The circles ringing them were even darker than they were before, and he was far too pale. He wondered when Nico had last slept of his own volition; he didn’t think the death trance thing or passing out really counted.

“Pressure,” Nico muttered to himself, “Pressure, yeah,” he shrugged his jacket off, revealing too-thin arms— knobby elbows and visible veins and boney hands that were struggling to tear the bottom half of his shirt off.

“Wait,” Jason slurred, “Use mine. It’s ruined now anyways, right,”

Nico looked at him with worry shining in his dark, dark eyes, and he scooted forwards again. He took no time in bunching a hand around the hem of Jason’s shirt and tugging horizontally. The ripping sound that came a few seconds later echoed off of the rocky walls. Nico didn’t pause for a moment, stretching the fabric out to its full length and mumbling to Jason to lean forwards.

Only then did he hesitate, stopping inches away from Jason and swallowing heavily. “This’ll… this’ll probably hurt,” he said quietly, pointedly looking anywhere but at Jason’s face.

Jason shrugged, “I’ve been through the drill enough times. I’ll be fine,”

Nico bit his bottom lip before nodding shortly and wrapping the shirt fabric as carefully as he could around Jason’s chest (his touch was light and cold and soothing); he exhaled heavily before pulling it tight, putting pressure on the wound and Jason hissed in pain. Nico mumbled several apologies under his breath, tying the ends together as quickly as possible.

There was a little concerned frown on his face when he pulled back, complete with obvious fear. Jason found he didn’t really like that look. It didn’t suit Nico.

Nico sighed shakily, running an equally shaky hand through his hair and looking Jason up and down. Jason felt oddly self-conscious for a second- he wasn’t exactly the picture of grace at the moment. He pushed the feeling aside.

“Once the ambrosia kicks in, you’ll be fine.” Nico said, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince Jason.

Jason nodded anyways.

He glanced around the small hole, trying to distract himself from the pain in his chest and waiting for the ambrosia to kick in. It was a small thing, barely large enough for the two of them, small enough that Nico’s knee brushed against his from where he sat with his legs folded, eyes locked on the cave entrance.

Nico.

He’d saved his life more times than he could count. He was the only reason Jason was still alive. Even so, Jason was beginning to wonder if they’d really make it out. Both of them were injured, Nico probably taking the brunt of it, even if the kid didn’t let it show— Jason still saw the way he stared at the shadows a little bit too long, the way he stumbled too often, the way his hand shook on the hilt of his sword. He didn’t know the person Nico was before, but the guy had said it himself: he was not the same person who fell into this pit that first time. Jason wondered if he’d ever be the same again.

Nico’s eyes were bright and glinting as he guarded the entrance, his knuckles white from clutching his sword too tightly. He looked like he would attack anything that came within half a mile of them. He looked like he could blow them all to pieces.

Flashes of the hazy things he had seen when he was lying on the ground ( _skin_ ) shot through his mind- Nico’s arms outstretched and the silence that dragged on before the monsters were gone; the way Nico looked down at his hands like he was terrified of them. Jason frowned. It was a bit of a terrifying power, yeah. But that didn’t make Nico terrifying.

“Hey, Nico,” he mumbled. The son of Hades turned to look at him, giving him permission to continue in that silent way he did.

“What you did back there,” he began, and he saw Nico tense, “it saved my life. Thank you.”

Nico stared at him for a minute, eyes wide. Then he quickly looked away, expression growing angry.

“Don’t thank me.” His voice rolled like gravel over his tongue, “What I did- it was… it was horrible.”

Jason shook his head quickly, and the action made him slightly nauseous, “No, it wasn’t- you were doing what you had to do. I would have done the same, if I could have.”

Nico shook his head too, a rough jerk from side to side, “No you wouldn’t,” he spat, “I’m as bad as they are. I… it wasn’t natural- I-I’m not natural. It was monstrous.”

“Nico,” Jason said softly, “You will _never_ be as bad as the things down here. You are not a monster,” because those high walls around him practically _radiated_ self-loathing and Jason wanted to tear them down.

And Nico laughed bitterly, “Right.”

“You’re not,” Jason argued, ignoring the slightly childish edge to his voice. “I think you’re pretty damn amazing,”

Nico looked at him oddly, shaking his head. “Then you’re confused.” 

Jason shrugged, and than winced at the pain that shot up his spine, “I might be a little woozy, but I am 100% sure that you are one of the greatest demigods I’ve ever met.”

Nico snorted disbelievingly, ducking his head like he wished his shirt would consume him. “All that blood loss is making you delirious,”

Jason allowed himself a small smile that Nico would probably scowl at if he were looking at him; probably take it as mockery instead of endearment.

_Endearment._

The word rang through Jason’s mind and he didn’t know what to do with it.

Silence settled over the two of them, broken only by the sound of their breathing and the never-ending growls of Tartarus. Jason hesitated, before the silence got a little too loud and a little too strained.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said carefully. He cringed internally at his choice of words- that sentence was meant for candle-lit first dates, not dimly lit hellholes.

Nico jumped at the sound, turning to look at him apprehensively, “What?”

“Y’know,” he gestured to his chest, “to help me focus on something else,”

The son of Hades’ expression shifted from suspicious to uncertain, “You wanna hear about _me?_ I’m not all that interesting. Not very good at storytelling either.”

Jason smiled in a way he hoped was good-naturedly. Nico twisted the silver skull ring on his finger- an anxious habit, probably, something to do with his hands; he’d noticed Reyna doing the same thing countless times. He felt a pang of guilt at the thought of her.

Nico seemed unsure of what to do with himself or where to start, and Jason wondered how often the kid just sat down and _talked._

“Where are you from?” Jason prompted when the quiet got a bit too awkward.

“Oh, um, Italy,” Nico stuttered out.

Jason raised his eyebrows appreciatively, “Really?”

Nico nodded, and he opened and closed his mouth three times before he finally convinced himself to keep talking, “When everything started getting too bad- a city not too far from us was- was bombed and my mother wanted to get us out, so we came to America. I was maybe…” he trailed off, eyes narrowing and glaring at the ground like this was a regular occurrence, “I don’t remember,” he muttered.

Jason glanced down. He’d heard a bit about the way Nico and his sister had been stuck in the Lotus Hotel and Casino, about how he was apparently a lot older than he looked, but it was really easy to forget. (Percy and Annabeth had shared quite a few stories about the son of Hades- some of them slightly disturbing; how he’d sold Percy out to his father, how he spent too much time in the Underworld. He was slowly realizing that the stories weren’t very accurate; they actually seemed pretty _biased_ \- for gods’ sake, Nico had fallen back into _Tartarus_ to save them). And it was _weird_ to think about. The boy in front of him had been alive during World War 2.

“I’m not sure exactly where I’m from, honestly,” Jason admitted, “I was left at Camp when I was like two so I don’t have much to go on, other than what Thalia’s told me,”

Nico’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of Thalia. 

“How do you know-? Oh, right. Grace. You guys are related, huh?” Nico looked sort of embarrassed at his own little bit of confusion. Jason smiled.

“Yeah. Didn’t know I even had a sister ‘till a while ago,” he said; he remembered the shock of seeing her again after all this time.

“It’s weird to think about,” Nico muttered,“You guys don’t look alike at all.”

Jason just smiled again, “We really don’t.” he agreed.

Nico glanced up at him, his gaze searching. Jason blinked self-consciously- which, again, was kind of ridiculous, considering both of them looked like they had fallen down a mountain or something. 

“Same eyes,” Nico said suddenly, shaking Jason from his sort of daze.

“What?”

Nico averted his gaze, shrugging, “You and Thalia, you have the same eyes,” he repeated quietly, almost wistfully, like he wasn’t thinking entirely about the Grace siblings.

He blinked again. He felt... he felt kind of complimented. 

“Nice,” he said, “Thalia’s eyes are awesome. Must mean I’m pretty awesome too,”

Nico rolled his eyes at that, and there was that ghostly smile again. He found he wanted to make him smile for real.

“You and Hazel don’t really look alike either,” he pointed out.

And then that phantom smile was gone again. The ring twisting started up again.

Nico shrugged, “I’ve been told we both take after our mothers,” he said quietly, formally, and Jason was once again shaken by how quickly the mood in that little hole in the wall shifted.

Talking to Nico was similar to walking on a landmine; you had to be careful where you stepped, even if you thought you knew where the bombs were. Jason, obviously, wasn’t any closer to plotting those bombs.

He wasn’t sure what part of his sentence had rubbed him the wrong way, but he didn’t want their pseudo-conversation to end there, not when he was sure his thoughts would run away with him to a place he didn’t want to go.

“Then your mother must’ve been a very nice person,” he remarked quietly.

The ring twisting stopped. He looked at him warily, before closing his eyes, running a hand through his messy hair and letting out a soft sigh.

“Yeah,” he said finally, “she was, I think.”

“You think?” he repeated, even though he already sort of knew the answer. He had a strange need to hear the explanation from Nico himself; to hear the first hand account instead of relying on half told stories.

Nico’s expression dropped into some sort of half-hearted glare, “I thought Percy already told you _all about me_ ,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his drawn up knees.

Jason looked over him carefully, “He told me a bit, yeah,” Nico bristled, “But I don’t really know the whole story,”

“And why the hell would you want to?” was Nico’s answer/question; it was angry and annoyed- but also genuinely confused, like he had no idea why anyone would ever want to know about his life.

The thought made Jason unreasonably sad.

“I want to get to know you,” he said slowly.

Nico snorted in disbelief, “You’re just bored,”

“A little bit,” he admitted, “But I really do want to get to know you. It was a lot, asking you to trust me just like that, but we should take advantage of the situation.”

“By doing what? Telling you my life’s story? I don’t see how that’s an advantage. It’s not all that exciting- and you don’t really care, you just want me to pass the time and trust you so you can get out of here. I promise you, as soon as we’re back on that ship, whatever _this_ is,” he gestured vaguely between the two of them, “will disappear.”

Jason was surprise by how _certain_ he sounded, how convinced he was of his own words, how sure he was.

“Why would you think that?” Jason asked, failing to keep the little bit of hurt out of his voice.

Nico laughed- the same forced dry coughing that sounded like it hurt his throat, “It always happens. People like me when they need my help. And then when the problem’s solved, when the war is over, they don’t like me anymore. They forget. They act like I didn’t just help save the goddamn world and they look at me like I’m some sort of-“ he cut himself off with a huff, “I make them _uncomfortable_ because I’m not smiling every second of the day, because I’m bad luck or something, because I’m creepy. Because Hades is my dad and they don’t want me around.”

His voice was thick and heavy and bitter with a tinted edge of resignation. Now that he’d started, he didn’t look like he could make himself stop if he wanted to.

“And right now, you need my help. You need me to get you out of Tartarus. And when you’re back in the sunlight again, with your pretty girlfriend and your pretty friends, you won’t want someone like me around anymore. And whatever. I don’t care. That’s just the way it is. So what’s the point of spilling my soul to you when it won’t mean _shit_ in a few days?”

Jason blinked.

This was probably the most he’d heard Nico say at one time, period. 

Nico had kept his angry gaze focused on the wall opposite to him, curling into himself, words spat out like poison and hitting Jason like a slap to the face. The last sentence though, he’d turned and looked him in the eye for a split second, and his gaze was captivating- angry, very very angry for so many reasons, angry at Jason and angry at their situation and angry at the world, eyes glinting and shining with unspoken emotion and Jason was rooted in place.

And then that gaze was gone. Nico was staring at the floor, teeth gritted and body tense and a scowl across his face.

And he had pegged this boy all _wrong_ , jumped to biased conclusions at first glance and he really wasn’t any better than the people Nico was talking about- he had judged him without knowing him, written him off as someone he wasn’t and was using him as a means to an end.

And looking at Nico, looking at his scowl and his jacket and his tired tired eyes, he seemed like a whole new person, someone who’d looked the world in the face at too young an age and saw it for what it was. He didn’t know what to say to a boy like that.

“You know,” Jason said, once he found his voice again, once he found the courage to speak again, “We have time to sit around and talk about how not okay you are now.”

There was a beat where his voice reverberated around in the silence, and then Nico _laughed._ It was rough and barking and slightly forced and it slid like sandpaper across his throat and he could tell that he rarely laughed. And he wondered if anyone had ever laughed in Tartarus.

“ _Gods,_ I thought I told you I don’t want a fucking therapy session.” Nico choked out, “We’re in _hell_.” The laugh turned into a cough, and Nico pressed his hand to his mouth, “Besides,” he said, once he could breathe again, “I think we just covered most of it.”

Jason allowed himself a small smile, if a little sad, “Nico,” he began, “I’m-“

“Don’t you _dare_ apologize,” Nico cut him off, all traces of humor (if it had even been actual humor in the first place) gone from his eyes as quickly as flipping a light switch, “I don’t want a damn apology and I don’t want your _pity_ , okay. It’s not like I really expect you to care.”

Jason pressed his lips into a thin line.

“I meant what I said,” he said quietly; Nico looked at him, confused, “You’re one of the greatest demigods I’ve ever met. I think you’re pretty damn amazing.”

Nico’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes darting up and down Jason’s face, looking at him like he was trying to decipher a puzzle. He shook his head.

“You can’t just… you can’t just say stuff like that. It’s not fair.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. Nico glared, though he seemed a little embarrassed, like he wasn’t sure how to take compliments, like he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to the sudden mood change.

“No one just _says_ that to someone they don’t know very well, _especially_ not to someone like me.”

“Someone like you? You mean to someone amazing?”

“I’m not- don’t _say_ that. Don’t make fun of me. You don’t know me enough to say that. I’m far from it.”

Jason paused. Nico’s arms were crossed and he was looking at the wall again. He could tell he was serious; he wasn’t fishing for compliments or anything.

“I know enough.” He said softly, “I know you’re strong. Strong enough to make it through this place alone. Strong enough to handle all that judgment. I know your sister died, right?” Nico turned to glare at him half-heartedly; Jason didn’t want to prod on that subject anyways, “And you had to live on your own? I know you helped in the war against the Titans. I know you saved Hazel, and you had to keep the two camps a secret from everyone. And _gods_ , you’re still here. You’re still fighting, and I would be dead if it wasn’t for you. No, I don’t know you very well. But I want to know you. And yeah, you’re pretty damn amazing.”

And it was Nico’s turn to be speechless. The look of utter bewilderment on his face, wide eyes and an open mouth and sadness and maybe a little bit of hope, was enough to make Jason want to wrap him up and protect him from the world and its unfairness.

But all he did was smile at him, because he didn’t want to risk anything with his wound, and he didn’t know if Nico would appreciate the gesture. But the urge was there.

Nico shut his mouth, blinking at Jason like he’d never met him before, before quickly turning his head to stare intently at the ground- and maybe it was the lighting, but there was a little bit of color in those pale cheeks.

“I…” he stuttered, fingers tapping nervously against the ground, “I, um, thank you?” it sounded more like a question than a statement, “I- no one’s ever-“ he rubbed his finger along and around a small stone, digging a little trench of sorts, “But flattery’s a cheap tactic. I-it doesn’t change anything.”

Jason just smiled again, letting his hand brush along the ground to where Nico was digging his little trench, and settling it carefully on top of his- lightly enough that he could pull away if he wanted to. As expected- and a little dreaded- Nico flinched at the touch. But for the second time, he didn’t pull away.

Jason was pretty sure the son of Hades could pierce something with his intent gaze alone, boring a hole into the ground with purpose, hand trembling with nervous energy, like he wasn’t sure what to do or what to say.

And then it rang through his head again- _endearment._ And he wondered vaguely why he had ever looked at this boy with contempt before.

“Hey, Nico?” he asked.

Nico tilted his head in acknowledgement, though he still didn’t look up.

“Do you think we’ll make it out?”

Nico looked up at him slowly, that little concerned frown back on his face. He gazed at him for a moment, before he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, confidently, “We’ll make it. You have to punch Gaea in the face for me.” 

Jason grinned, “It’ll be my pleasure.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> male bonding amirite 
> 
> anyways, school's starting up again in like two days (??? and im gonna cry????), so i'm not sure when i'll get the time to update next, but like i said, i'm def gonna do it!
> 
> as always, thanks for reading, and feedback is v appreciated!


	7. dubiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Will you be okay?” he asked, not bothering to hide the sharp concern in his voice. He cared about Jason Grace, okay— it was official now, he supposed. Sue him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *guess who's back plays in the background*

 

_“A lack of common sense usually ends in some heroic feat, much like a soldier who dives onto the grenade so that others may live.”_

—Criss Jami

.

.

.

Nico wasn’t used to opening up to people. Never opened up to people, really— except for maybe Hazel and a long time ago, Bianca. 

It never ended well, was the thing. It didn’t end well with Percy and it didn’t end well with Annabeth, and so he knew it wouldn’t end well with anyone else. Wouldn’t end well here, with Jason Grace. 

Jason Grace, who somehow managed to crack him open and make him talk about things he didn’t like to talk about. Jason Grace, 100% blond superhero son of the sky, who almost bled out in a cave in Tartarus and still had it in him to make decent conversation. 

Stranger things had happened, he supposed. 

And they’d survived- the Arai, and the conversation (the latter probably only a challenge to Nico). So there was that. 

There was that. 

Now, they just had to get Jason the rest of the way through hell with a gaping wound in his chest, fight off any and all future attacks, make sure Jason didn’t gain any more chest wounds, fight through a literal sea of monsters to get to the doors, somehow _get through_ the doors, and manage stay alive throughout the whole thing. Piece of fucking cake. 

Only, neither of them had eaten in what could very well have been days, neither of them had slept in a while, neither of them were in very good shape- physically or mentally, if Nico’s racing pulse and shaking hands and Jason’s bad reaction to seeing Tartarus were anything to go by. 

And that was another thing: Jason had seen Tartarus. _Seen_ it, the way Nico had grown to see it. It settled in and focused like eyes adjusting to the dark, and once you saw it, you couldn’t stop. And Nico really, _really_ hadn’t wanted Jason to have to see that, to have to feel that. He was a genuinely nice person, the rare kind that hardly showed up nowadays. Genuinely nice people weren’t meant for Tartarus. 

Jason Grace wasn’t meant for Tartarus. 

Frankly, at this point he was amazed the guy was still standing- trying to stand, at least. 

“Maybe we should take a break,” Nico suggested nervously. The terrain was getting rougher, steeper, and though they hadn’t come across anything too dangerous yet, he didn’t want to risk anything with the state they were in: Jason hobbling along slowly, gladius in hand, with one arm draped heavily over Nico’s shoulder. Nico wasn’t doing much better himself, minus the whole gaping chest wound thing. 

“You said so yourself, we don’t have that kind of time,” Jason replied shakily. His voice was rough with the effort of keeping his tone pain-free. It wasn’t working very well. “Besides, we barely started, like, ten minutes ago.” 

“If we’re going to make it, you need to be in good shape. You’ll be useless if you can’t stand, much less fight or run.” 

The son of Jupiter seemed to deflate against Nico’s shoulder. He wasn’t trying to be rude, but they didn’t have time to sugar coat things. There was no room for sweet things down here. 

“But we can’t waste anymore time,” Jason insisted anyways. 

“Stop being so damn self-sacrificial and rest,” Nico grumbled, “I can take care of any threats. We can’t risk your wound re-opening. You barely have half a shirt left and we don’t have any more ambrosia.” 

That seemed to shut him up. 

(Nico wondered vaguely when he had started caring about Jason Grace so much. He was one of the seven, a prophesied hero fated to stop Gaia and save the world. And he treated Nico, skin and bones and distrust, like a human being, so maybe that was reason enough to care.)  

No more caves or holes in the wall in sight- Nico wasn’t sure he could stomach another conversation like the last one, it had left him confused and flustered and slightly uncomfortable, and he didn’t know what to do with compliments or nice smiles from strangers- so they settled for the most comfortable bit of ground (skin) they could find, and sat gingerly behind a large rock.

“Nico,” Jason started after the silence dragged on for too long.

“No.” Nico cut in, “No more deep, heartfelt conversations, okay?” 

Jason’s lips quirked in a brief smile, “Actually, I was gonna say you should probably get some rest too.”

“No,” Nico repeated immediately, “I’m not sleeping down here.” 

Jason blinked, and his smile dropped just as quickly, replaced with a kind of odd concern, “You’ve been running on adrenaline for too long, you need to sleep.”

“I’m _not,”_ he turned to glare at him, “sleeping down here.” 

The glare barely seemed to faze him. Which was weird and definitely not okay because he hadn’t known him very long and he’d spent years perfecting these things— the creepy came with his heritage, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to sharpen it, learn how to use it and when to use it, and this Jason Grace coming in and growing nearly immune to it in a matter of days was _definitely_ not okay.

“Why not? It wasn’t that bad for me earlier— a little unnerving, sure, but not that bad.” 

Nico’s glare twisted into a vague disbelief, “Well that’s great for you and all, but I haven’t had the best experience with it, okay.” 

Jason titled his head with that odd concern on his face again. Nico looked away. He wasn’t used to that kind of thing. 

“Nightmares?” Jason asked. 

Nico shrugged, “I guess.” 

“What kinda nightmares?” 

“I said no more stupid conversations.” 

Jason gave a small apologetic overly-innocent smile and a shrug of his shoulders, followed quickly by a quiet hiss. Chest wound. 

“It could be good to talk about it.” he offered.

Nico snorted, “What ‘good’?” 

The son of Jupiter did that shrug-wince thing again. Nico was tempted to tell him to cut it out, because _chest wound._

“Talking things out is always a good thing. It helps you set it straight, and it’s nice to get things off your shoulders, you know?” 

Nico hummed noncommittally. 

He did know, sort of. But he tended to talk to people who weren’t directly part of his life, and having centuries-old, wise, historical figures give you advice is a lot better than getting the advice of weird blond teenagers, probably. And talking about his nightmares wouldn’t be _helpful,_ just embarrassing, and it wouldn’t help in the long-run anyways. 

They lapsed back into silence, with the sticky heat and the sound of far-away monsters as a nice ambiance. 

With silence came thoughts. And with thoughts came worry and with worry came shadows and with shadows came a suffocating sense of _what the hell are we gonna do._

They were off the track of the Phlegethon- the damn Arai had run them off course, and the need to find shelter had pulled them even further away- and he wasn’t sure if they could find it again, especially with the condition Jason was in. 

He wasn’t sure how much they could do at all with Jason’s condition. 

He could barely walk on his own, let alone climb the cliff faces or hills or run or fight or search for burning rivers. But the river could help the healing process along _rapidly,_ could very well be their one shot at actually making it through everything. It was how Nico had survived before, and it was how they’d gotten this far this time around, and of course the one time they need it the most (Nico could’ve walked off a broken rib or two and Jason could’ve been fine with the few scratches he’d collected- though there wasn’t much they could’ve done about the hunger or exhaustion) they couldn’t fucking find it. 

Fate was cruel. 

(Tartarus was cruel.) 

And it wasn’t _fair._

“What’re you thinking about?” 

Jason’s voice rang out of nowhere and shattered his focus and Nico nearly jumped. 

He didn’t have the will to even bother with a glare this time. 

Instead, he took a deep breath and looked at Jason. “We need to find the Phlegethon again.” he said quietly, grimly. 

Jason nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. It could help, a lot.” his eyebrows drew up and his forehead creased in the middle; he seemed to do that a lot when he was being serious, Nico had noticed, “But we have no idea where it is. We could go one way, and it could be in the opposite direction, and we wouldn’t know until it’s too late.” 

Nico frowned. “I know, but we still have to try.” 

“Yeah,” Jason agreed. 

Nico looked the son of Jupiter up and down- worn and battered and very very injured and not in shape to travel at all- and bit his lip. 

“Will you be okay?” he asked, not bothering to hide the sharp concern in his voice. He cared about Jason Grace, okay— it was official now, he supposed. Sue him. 

“I think so,” Jason lied. It was a lie. 

Nico frowned, unconvinced.

Jason sighed. His gladius-free hand came up to fiddle with the knee of his jeans, almost nervously. 

“But I was thinking,” he began carefully; Nico already knew he wouldn’t like whatever this was, “I’m not exactly the picture of health at the moment. I’d just slow you down, make everything more difficult. So…” he glanced up, briefly made eye contact, “what if you, y’know… left me here. To go look. And if- when- when you find it, you can come back, and—“ 

“No way.” Nico cut in, a little louder than was probably necessary. “We are _not_ splitting up.” 

Jason ran a hand through his hair, “Look, I know it’s not ideal, but considering the—“ 

“I’m not going to _consider_ anything like this. Aren’t you some great Roman leader? You _know_ splitting up hardly ends well. And even if I did manage to find it, how exactly would I find my way back? You can’t exactly hold up a sign, and I can’t leave a trail.” 

“Nico—“ 

“And what if something shows up while I’m gone? Could you really fight it off right now?” 

“Nico—“ He tried again. 

“And what if something happens to me? What if I don’t make it back? You could _die,_ right here, behind this damn rock.”

_“Nico—“_

“ _No.”_ he practically yelled, “I am _not_ leaving you behind, Jason.” 

For a moment, Jason just stared, something like surprise (and okay, that stung a little, because Nico wasn’t some heartless monster who would leave someone for dead like that) and relief on his face. 

Eventually, he opened his mouth to say something, but was sort of interrupted by their rock hiding place being swept sideways and crumbling to pieces in one fluid motion behind him. 

Nico could’ve cried about the horrible timing.

Goddamn Chimeras. 

He jumped to his feet, bracing his sword in front of him, narrowly avoiding the blast of fire that shot in his direction. Jason, amazingly, did the same, going as far as taking a swing at the things’s ugly goat head before gasping in pain and bringing a hand to his chest. 

Nico had to yank him none too gently out of the way of the snake’s snapping jaws, jump this way, pull him with him, arms and legs sluggish with fatigue and he felt the singe of fire grazing his neck and knew with sudden clarity that they could not win this fight. 

They had to run. 

He said as much to Jason with a simple, “Run,” and grabbed him by the wrist and did just that. 

And stumbled when Jason stumbled and cringed at the horrible shriek of the goat head and pulled Jason’s arm around his shoulder as far as he could manage and sliced and half-dragged the son of Jupiter along with him and one of the only things running through his mind was: _we’re going to die, this is how we’re going to die, we’re going to die._

.

.

(He’s not sure how the hell they made it, but the damn monster was too stupid to turn a sharp corner and maybe after all the shit the world put them through it gave them this little kindness and even though he was practically dead weight against him Jason wasn’t as heavy as he thought he would be and Nico was pretty sure he would pass out any second. 

But they made it.)

(And they sat in heavy silence as they rested and Nico didn’t have to speak to say ‘ _if I had left you would be dead, we could both be dead’._

Jason didn’t have to speak to say his stupid self-sacrificing plan was stupid.

Neither of them said anything when they got up to keep walking.) 

.

.

And somehow, against every negative self-doubting thought in Nico’s head, they found the stupid fire river.  

He’d never been happier to see it. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, it's been a _super_ long time, and i'm _super_ sorry about that, school's been keeping me p busy and to be real honest i'm not entirely feeling the pjo as of late??
> 
> that said, i still do intend to finish this damn thing, and i have a strong devotion to these nerds 
> 
> also, i've been very surprised with all the feedback this has been getting, it makes me really happy that people have been wanting me to continue the story and i just !!! thank you v much for being patient with me lmao this is long overdue 
> 
> as always, thank you v much for reading and feedback is v much appreciated!


	8. despondency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Even if I had left, I wouldn’t have been able to find you again.” he was back to staring intently forwards, “Besides, you have to live. You’re one of the seven. You have to get out of here and punch Gaea in the face for me and save the world and stuff. Your life is more important than mine.”

 

_“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”_

—Friedrich Nietzsche

. 

.

.

There were quite a few rivers in Tartarus. Jason knew this, hypothetically— Nico had told him about them all that time ago, and they were depending on a goddamn river of fire to stay alive. 

So there were a few rivers in Tartarus, and you couldn’t drink from any of them, or swim in any of them, probably shouldn’t go anywhere near them if Nico’s tone had been anything to go by (he can practically hear Percy saying something about how that kind of defeated the purpose of rivers, how they shouldn’t even be called rivers)— waters of suffering and lost souls and all that. 

But he hadn’t really thought about it too much- sort of focused on the whole staying alive thing- until he saw one of them. 

From far away, it didn’t seem all that intimidating; just a dark spot on among countless other dark spots- shadows or caves or whatever the hell else was out there. As they got closer, though, the dark spot seemed to grow. It seemed like more of a lake than a river, a blood clot, a pent up, swirling mass of dark dark water. Moving and unmoving at the same time. The part that probably qualified as a river stretched out behind rocky terrain he couldn’t see. Nico had said they were pretty long rivers; that maybe all of them found their way down into Tartarus. Probably a lot smoother than their own trip had been, he thought.

They weren’t super close to it or anything. They were still following the fire water (he wasn’t sure if it led to the doors, to the heart, and he didn’t think Nico knew either, but it was the closest thing to a plan they had at the moment; follow the river, stay alive, and hope for the best), but something about it made him want to get closer. 

To see it for himself, see it more clearly. 

He wondered which river it was. He tried to remember the names of all of them (Greek names still didn’t come as easily to him as Roman ones did; they had all sorts of weird syllables and didn’t roll off his tongue as naturally as they did for Nico). 

Phlegathon was the one they were surviving off of. Lethe was the river of amnesia or forgetfulness. The Styx was the one people kept swearing on, unbreakable oaths and such. One that started with a ‘C’ had something to do with lamentation. And then Ach-something was the river of woe? 

If everything in the Underworld had so many varieties, he didn’t know how Nico kept it all straight. 

“Jason.” Nico’s voice cut into his thoughts sharply, “Don’t.” 

He didn’t know what he was talking about until he blinked a few times and glanced down at his feet. He’d been... he'd been inching closer and closer to the river without realizing it. Which was kind of alarming.

“Sorry,” he said absently.

Nico didn’t reply, just looked forward again. Jason wasn’t surprised; the kid had hardly spoken a word for the past however long they’d been walking. Not since the ‘near death experience via chimera’ escapade.

It wasn’t like he wanted to die, not like he had a death wish or anything. And he knew- he _knew_ \- you never left a man behind unless it was absolutely necessary, knew Nico would never leave someone behind unless it was absolutely necessary. And maybe it had been absolutely necessary, in that moment. 

Jason had been a liability (it was a little better now, with the fire in his system; he didn’t have to lean on the son of Hades just to walk anymore, and every step didn’t hurt anymore- it was more of a dull ache). He could’ve gotten them both killed, held both of them down. And sure, it hadn’t been the best strategy in the world; and sure, in his experience splitting up never really ended well. But it had been the best choice they’d had, even if it wasn’t ideal. Being down here in the first place wasn’t ideal. 

Seven teenagers saving the world from vengeful Mother Nature wasn’t ideal, but here they all were. 

Splitting up could’ve worked out fine, if that damn chimera hadn’t showed up in the middle of the conversation. Maybe. A part of him was pretty sure it would’ve showed up either way, even if Nico had left to search for the river. And a bigger part of him was absolutely sure that he wouldn’t have been able to fight it off, with the condition he’d been in. 

If Nico had left, he would’ve died, and they both knew it.

He was grateful Nico didn’t rub it in. He hadn’t even said it out loud, but it hung heavy in the air between them, a wall between any conversation they could make or whatever friendship they’d built up. 

Nico cared about him, he realized with a start, enough to risk his own safety and refuse to leave him behind. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised, but he was. He was touched. He would’ve done the same thing, he realized next. 

He wouldn’t have left Nico behind, not like that, vulnerable and practically defenseless. He wouldn’t have left anyone alone like that. 

“Nico?” he asked tentatively. 

Again, Nico didn’t respond. The only indication he’d heard him was a brief sideways glance in his direction. A silent permission to continue. 

“I’m sorry.”

This time Nico actually looked at him, eyebrows raised, “Why?”

“I shouldn’t have suggested that.” he breathed out. 

Nico snorted, “No, you really shouldn’t have.”

“It was stupid—“

“It was.” Nico agreed.

“And wouldn’t have worked out well. You never leave a man behind.” 

“Then why did you suggest it in the first place?” the sharp tone was back.

He scratched the back of his neck guiltily, "I was just... I didn’t want to hold you back or anything.” 

“Even if I had left, I wouldn’t have been able to find you again.” he was back to staring intently forwards, “Besides, you have to live. You’re one of the seven. You have to get out of here and punch Gaea in the face for me and save the world and stuff. Your life is more important than mine.”

Jason blinked, something in his stomach twisting uncomfortably at the certain conviction in the boy’s tone. “What? Nico, you make it sound like—“

“I won’t let you die, Jason Grace.” Nico cut him off, shooting him a look that seemed to pierce right through him.

Jason wasn’t sure what to say to that.

.

.

Eventually, they did get pretty close to the river. 

The two- the Phlegethon and whichever the other one was- seemed to twist towards each other (not overlapping or mixing together or anything, thank the gods— he wasn’t sure what they would’ve done if the fire was cut off or contaminated or something), to the point where there were only a few yards between them.

And there was that urge again, the urge to get closer and see what exactly made it seem to oddly tempting— it wasn’t particularly nice to look at or anything, so he had no idea what it was that made him want to find out.

Thankfully, the fire river’s path starting ascending. It was a little difficult to climb over jagged rocks and jump over cracks in the skin when it was so _steep_ with some of the pain from his wound still lingering, but he managed. Once they got to the top, he saw that the other river wasn’t really all that far away. It was almost right below them, actually. If you tripped over the ledge, you’d fall right into it.

He made sure to stand a few feet away from the ledge. 

“You know which river that is?” Jason asked after a few more minutes of walking in silence. 

Nico leaned to the side to look over the edge for a moment (Jason resisted the urge to grab him and pull him very far away from it), and shrugged. 

“Cocytus, maybe. Probably the Acheron, though. I think.” he shrugged again, “Those two look pretty similar, from what I’ve heard.”

“Heard?”

Nico gave him an odd look, that little bemused raise of his eyebrows again. He had the most expressive eyebrows of anyone Jason knew. 

“Yeah, heard. It’s not like I’d ever seen them in person, before- y’know- I fell. They don’t exactly have field trips to hell,” he blew a stray piece of hair out of his eyes, “I mainly asked all the ancient heroes about it. My father, too, when he spared a minute or two from his oh so important work.”

He took another glance at the river, “Pretty sure that’s the Acheron, though. River of woe. Different from the river of lamentation. The Cocytus. Accidentally fell in that one.” he didn’t make eye contact. 

Jason glanced down. Falling in a river full of miserable souls didn’t sound like a very fun experience. He wasn’t insensitive enough to ask about it. He was surprised again at the little bits of personal di Angelo info he picked up here and there. Surprised enough to tuck that info away under ‘important’. 

“Acheron,” he repeated slowly. Somehow, the dark water didn’t seem quite so intimidating once it had a name. 

Sort of. 

He still didn’t want to take a swim in it. At all. 

“What else do you talk to ‘all the ancient heroes’ about?” Jason asked, changing the subject. 

A little eyebrow raise again- sort of confused, this time. 

“I mean, they probably have a lot to talk about, right? And it must be pretty cool to talk to the actual legends.” 

Nico shrugged once again, looking vaguely uncomfortable. 

“I guess so. I already knew most of the stories, but it was cool to hear them from people who were actually there.” he let out a huff of air that might have been an attempt at a laugh, “Odysseus sure likes hearing himself talk, though.” 

Jason smiled at the thought of Nico rolling his eyes while the ghost of actual _Odysseus_ went on and on about his adventures. It wasn’t so much odd or creepy, the whole talking to ancient ghosts thing; it was just _Nico._  

Besides, who doesn’t want a good story now and then? 

“Heroes are like that, I guess.” he said. 

A bout of silence. “You aren’t, really.” Nico said. 

Jason blinked. 

“I’m not technically a _hero_ , though.”

“Didn’t you like, take down a titan or something? Go on all these amazing quests?” the son of Hades ran a hand through his hair, almost self-consciously, “And, like I said before, you’re one of the seven, which kind of automatically makes you a hero.”

Jason blinked again, and then there was that _endearment_ again, that strange fondness. 

“If _I’m_ a hero, than so are you.” he said, returning the compliment. 

Nico snorted disbelievingly. “ _I_ am not a hero.”  


“Sure you are.” Jason argued lightly, “You helped save the world once before, right?”

“I guess so. But that doesn’t really make me a _hero._ I was twelve.”

“Yes it d— wait, you were _twelve?”_

“Yeah, I was _twelve._ ” he repeated, almost defensively. 

“That makes you even more of a hero, man. At twelve, I’m pretty sure I was still training and stuff.” 

Little dubious eyebrow raise. “Nah, I bet you were off on some quest, like Percy.” 

Jason smiled briefly, “So I’ve heard. He’s gone on some crazy quests, huh?”

And then there was that mood change again- like accidentally flipping a switch- and suddenly Nico had his gaze locked on the ground and his shoulders stiff.

“Yeah.’’ he replied simply. 

Jason didn’t know why the subject of Percy had such an effect on him. He knew the two had some history, from the (one-sided, biased) stories he’d heard, and the little bits Nico had mentioned, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have fallen back into _Tartarus_ for him if he really disliked him so much. 

And then; then he’d been one of the voices, back with the godforsaken harpies, one of the Nico’s voices, right there along with his sisters’. So he didn’t really know. And he didn’t think just asking about it would get him anywhere, and he didn’t want to make Nico mad, or uncomfortable, or shut him out, whatever the reason. 

He opened his mouth to say something- a subject changer, maybe- he hadn’t quite thought out yet, when there was a growl way too close for comfort. 

And _really,_ did some sort of stupid monster have to interrupt all of their conversations?

He wasn’t sure what this thing was, this time. Some kind of ‘reptile mixed with a furry animal of some sort’ hybrid thing, like an arts and crafts project stuck together by a three year old. 

It growled again, a deep, rumbling sound from the back of it’s throat— and then it lunged. 

Nico was shockingly fast, even now, all reflexes and spins and dark dark swords. The furry lizard-y thing had thick skin, apparently, so his slice didn’t cut through, no matter how hard he hit it. It still succeeded in making it angry, though.

It rushed forwards again, but Jason blocked its path this time with a thrust of his gladius and he wasn’t in good enough shape yet to call on the winds to blow it back or anything.  

So Nico took over again, swinging and jumping with more control than someone in his state should have. Then anyone should have really. It was almost unfair.

But it wasn’t quite enough. The ledge was still close- really close, too close- and the next lunge sent the son of Hades stumbling backwards, too _too close_. A swing and a growl and another step backwards and shit shit shit. 

It was similar- cruelly, horribly- similar to their first fall: Nico twisting dangerously in midair with nothing to hold on to; Jason reaching for him, brain kicking into overdrive with an overwhelming urge to protect; catching his wrist and holding it tight and the _shit shit shit we’re so fucked_ feeling. 

Except this time, there was no ledge to grab onto, no promise to make. They just… fell. Nico fell backwards, and so Jason fell with him. 

And then they hit the water. 

.

.

_Cold,_ was his first coherent thought. 

_Fuck monsters,_ was his second. 

_His mother’s reassurances that- I’ll be back for you, soon, okay?- right before she turned around and never came back_ , was his third. 

_Where’s Nico?_ was his fourth.

_Thalia saying she thought he was dead in that broken little voice,_ was his fifth.  

Acheron; the river of woe. Not really what he’d thought it would be— creatures dragging him down and telling him everything was worthless, he’d thought— but probably just as bad.

 

( _“Welcome to my party,”_ _Gaea murmured._

_“I’ll be back for you, I promise.”_

_“I thought you were dead!”_

_“Who are you?”_

_“As soon as we’re back on the ship, whatever this is, will disappear.”_

_“Welcome to my party.”_

_“Nothing can stop me.”_

_“Who are you?”_

_“Jason!”)_

And it was like- it was like he couldn’t think, couldn’t breath, and all he could see was Piper’s face when she found out all her memories of him were fake, and his mom walking away, and Hera looking at him like the was he perfect chess piece, and Nico looking at him like he expected to be attacked. And all he could hear was Gaea and his mom and Thalia and he couldn’t breathe _, gods_ he couldn’t breathe. 

He kicked and he struggled and— he broke the surface. 

The water was cold and dark and swirling and there were so many memories, bad bad memories he didn’t want to think about pulling him down, grabbing and pulling and tearing their way in. 

He looked around frantically and— and he couldn’t find Nico. 

He was still underwater, he had to be, but he couldn’t see him, the water was too damn dark. 

_You never leave a man behind,_ is what he chanted, over and over again as he took a deep breath and forced himself back under. 

He couldn’t see, and he couldn’t hear, not with all the voices, but he could feel. He felt, he searched with his arms and his legs and if he focused on that, on finding Nico, on getting him out of this, everything dimmed into a buzz in the back of his mind (maybe it was just the lack of oxygen).

His fingers brushed against something that felt like the fabric of an aviator jacket and— yes— he grasped and he pulled and he yanked both of them to the surface. 

Nico was shaking— badly, really badly. Not unconscious, but not fully conscious either, shaking and shivering and not doing a damn thing to try and get away, drowning in whatever horrible things were going on in his head. 

Jason, by some sort of miracle of the fucking gods, managed to heave them both to the bank of the river. It was hard to pull himself and Nico up and out- the soaked jacket weighed him down, and so did his sword.

He coughed and he choked and he finally got air in his lungs. Nico coughed too, gasping for air and staring up at the underground sky above them and shaking, still shaking. 

He looked _terrified_ , scared out of his mind and all sorts of sad and shocked and just… small. Incredibly small. Vaguely like he was about to cry. And Jason had no idea what he would do if Nico cried, no idea what he would say— had no idea what to say now. 

“Nico?” he settled on. 

The son of Hades blinked and looked at him like he hadn’t realized he was there. 

“They’re dead,” he said, slowly, quietly. “She’s dead, and it’s my fault, and she shouldn’t have picked up that stupid figurine.”

His arms shook as he pushed himself up and drew his legs up to his chest and ran a shaky hand through his hair, where it stayed, clutching. 

“She’s dead, and, Percy thinks I’m a traitor, and- and it’s my fault and I’m disgusting and shit I can’t do this- we’re- we’re gonna…”

His breath quickened dangerously and Jason scooted closer, put a hand on his shoulder that made him flinch violently.

“Nico, it’s okay—“

“We’re gonna _die_ , Jason.” he said, scared, scared, and certain, and he looked up at him with wild frantic tired eyes, “We’re gonna die down here. I can’t- I can’t do this- even if we make it to the doors we won’t be able to get through them and you have to survive and Bianca’s _dead_ and- and Mother’s dead and we’re gonna die too, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna _explode_ just like them- because- gods we’re gonna die.”

Jason tightened his grip cautiously, “We’re not gonna die, Nico,” his voice shook too, he couldn’t stop it.

“We are. Bianca’s dead.” 

“I know,” he said softly, gently, and gods Nico was still shaking, “But we aren’t, and we won’t.” 

“Bianca’s dead and I’m an _abomination_ — and she _knew_ and she—“ 

Jason’s hands traveled from his soaking wet shoulders to the small of his back almost on instinct, like he’d done it hundreds of times before, and he pulled him in and held him close because _gods._

Gods help them both.

“She’s dead,” Nico whispered, trembling, boney hands grasping at his torn up shirt like it was the only thing holding him together, “And I’m _sick-_ and they’re _dead_ , and we’re gonna _die.”_

And Jason had no idea about half of what he was talking about but he held him a little big tighter and ran a hand through his hair and tried not to focus on where they were and more on what he had to do for this boy and how much this boy was hurting. 

“We’ll be okay, Nico. We’ll make it. Both of us. That river? It’s not true, it’s not real.” 

Nico shook his head in jerky little motions. “They’re dead.”

“But you’re not. You’re still alive.” 

And Nico buried his head in Jason’s chest, and his shirt was already soaked, so if it got a little messier, it didn’t matter, and he didn’t say anything about it. Just let Nico cry and didn’t let go and wished with everything he had that they would make it through this, that this amazing boy would make it through this.

Because they had to. 

_They had to._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back almost a month later lmao
> 
> also this is why i shouldn't write stuff when i'm sick??? i get v emotional??
> 
> as always, thank you for reading, and feedback is v appreciated!


	9. commiseration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You been to many parties?" Nico attempted lightly. 
> 
> “Not really,” Jason shot him a weak smile, “there was a celebration when I became praetor, though. It was pretty wild, honestly. Dakota drank too much Kool-Aid and Reyna nearly put him through a wall.”
> 
> Despite the mood, something in Jason’s wistful tone almost made him smile.
> 
> Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> v e r y dialogue heavy chapter

 

 

_“Sometimes I'm so deeply buried under self-reproaches that I long for a word of comfort to help me dig myself out again.”_

—Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl

.

.

.

Nico di Angelo was weak.

He knew this. He’d known this for a long time, as long as he could remember. Known it ever since Bianca punched the kid who had made fun of him for staring at the nice math teacher with the pretty black hair for too long, back when he was six years old. Known it since he started feeling like crying every time he thought about Bianca or his mother. Known it since he couldn’t let Percy Jackson get hurt right after he told him his sister was dead.

Nico di Angelo was weak. But the Acheron, clutching at Jason grace and crying and shaking like a terrified child for who knows how long- that was the icing on the horrible embarrassing cake, the kind you put your heart and soul into but end up messing up by using salt instead of sugar or something. Homemade icing made from too _much_ sugar, from mistakes and from gross tears shed in the middle of hell.

Nico di Angelo was weak. And now Jason Grace knew it too.

Jason Grace, who’d called him amazing and strong and all that other embarrassing stuff back in the cave. Who was way too nice and way too bright for hell. Who was strong. Who was the opposite of weak.

He knew who Nico was now. He was probably disgusted. Nico sure was.

He was embarrassed. No, embarrassed didn’t even begin to cover it. He was humiliated. He hated it. He wanted the skin of the monster they were walking on to swallow him up.

Jason’d had to help him to his feet; he’d had to lean on him to walk (they had to backtrack to be near the Phlegathon again) for the first half hour or so before Nico pulled himself together enough for his legs to stop shaking. (Jason was the one with the injury and yet he was the one supporting him- Nico was pathetic.)

He shouldn’t be this affected. Everything he’d heard, he’d heard a hundred times already. All of Bianca’s screams and Percy’s accusations and his mother telling him bedtimes stories and so many people looking at him like he was covered in sewage. It shouldn’t affect him this much. The older boys at Westover who beat him up for telling the ringleader he had pretty eyes. The man who owned the shop down the street being yanked away for the star he wore on his chest. His father telling him he would never be as good as his sister, telling him he was weak and foolish.

He shouldn’t be this affected, but he was, and he hated himself for it.

It was his fault they were down here, and it was his fault they fell in the river.

He hated himself for it. Resented himself. He wondered if deep down, Jason resented him too.

.

.

They walked in silence. It seemed to be a common occurrence between the two of them, for one reason or another. It was usually Nico’s fault though.

His hair was still damp, and so were his clothes. The air was acidic down here, but apparently not warm enough to dry them off very quickly. It made for an odd mixture of feelings- dry and chilly and hot all at once.

Jason’s shirt, or what was left of it, was plastered to his chest, still practically soaked. His hair stuck straight up. At least the grime that had covered his face and his hands had been washed away by the river. The only plus to their little swim.

The son of Jupiter glanced at him; Nico forced himself to look away. He could barely bare to make eye contact with him- all he could think about were his firm reassurances and the way his own hands shook. Gods, he was pathetic.

“I heard Thalia.” Jason’s voice cut into his thoughts. He nearly flinched at the sudden sound.

He glanced at him sidelong. “What?”

“In the river.” Jason was still looking ahead, voice hesitant, “I heard Thalia. And my mom.”

“Jason, you don’t have to-”

“I want to.” Jason looked at him seriously, “Please.”

Nico swallowed. His throat was very dry. He nodded, slowly.

Jason looked forward again and they reached the place where the cliff that the river flowed up started ascending. This time, they walked far away from the ledge.

“I heard Thalia, when she found out I was still alive.” He took a deep breath, “I heard my mother. I didn’t remember until I heard her- I heard the last words she ever said to me, back when she left me at Camp Jupiter.”

His voice wavered. Nico looked at him in alarm, but Jason didn’t seem close to tears or anything.

“I heard Gaea, the way she sounded in my dreams. ‘Welcome to my party,’ she said. Worst party I’ve ever been to.”

“You been to many parties?” Nico attempted lightly.

“Not really,” Jason shot him a weak smile, “there was a celebration when I became praetor, though. It was pretty wild, honestly. Dakota drank too much Kool-Aid and Reyna nearly put him through a wall.”

Despite the mood, something in Jason’s wistful tone almost made him smile.

Almost.

“What about you?” Jason asked, “Have _you_ been to many parties.”

Nicos shrugged absently, “Not really. Maybe a birthday party or two, like seventy years ago.”

“Dude, you’re so _old,_ ” Jason nudged him; his small grin seemed more genuine.

“Respect your elders, Grace,”

“Sorry, Mr. Di Angelo,”

This time, Nico did smile- a ghost of a ghost of a smile and a small huff of air that might’ve been a laugh, once upon a time.

Jason’s eyes softened for the briefest moment, before his smile slid slowly from his face.

“I heard Piper. Yelling my name when the eidolon took over my body. I almost fought Percy. She was scared. I was scared.”

Nico looked forward again, stepping carefully over a crack in the ground that he’d almost tripled over.

“I heard someone asking who I was. I don’t know who. And I… I didn’t know- who I was, I mean. In the water.” He sighed, running a hand through his still-wet hair, “Hera took away everything I had, all my memories. All my time with Piper and Leo was fabricated, and all my time at camp feels like some sort of dream.”

There was a sad, melancholy kind of look on his face. Nico didn’t like it at all.

“Honestly,” Jason let out a little self-deprecating laugh, “it kinda fucked me up a little. But those are the gods for you, I guess.”

“Definitely Hera for you.” Nico agreed. He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know if there was really anything to say.

There was a weak little smile again. “Sorry for unloading all my baggage on you. Didn’t mean to turn this into a therapy session.”

Nico shook his head. “Don’t be sorry.”

Their footsteps echoed as they trudged heavily up the cliff. They should probably stop for another first drink here soon, Nico thought vaguely.

He looked at Jason.

This boy had been through more than Nico had given him credit for. He’d been abandoned by his mother and raised by wolves. He’d worked his way up to praetor, and then had every bit of his identity erased. Nico knew what that was like, to have no idea about your past, to have to piece it together with every memory that slowly came back. Jason had traveled across the world to fulfill the prophecy, and now he was trapped in actual hell because Nico had fucked up.

He took a deep breath.

“I heard Bianca.” He began quietly, “My sister- my other sister.”

Jason looked up, surprised. Then oddly grateful? He nodded in encouragement.

“I heard my… my father. Hades.” His gaze shifted to the son of Jupiter and back again. “He always… liked Bianca better. Said I’d never be as good as she was. He’s better, now. I guess I’ve grown on him or something.”

Jason opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, looking vaguely troubled, but then closed it and gestured for him to keep going.

“I heard Percy. I heard him call me a traitor- he told you about when I sold him out, right?”

“Y-yeah,” he answered hesitantly, “But I don’t think it was the whole story.”

Nico shrugged. “I wanted to know about my mother. He said he would tell me about her if I brought Percy. He said he just wanted to _talk_ ,” he laughed bitterly, “He didn’t want to talk. I don’t think Percy ever really forgave me for that.”

When he risked another glance at Jason, he wasn’t quite sure about the expression on his face.

“That’s not very fair,” he said, actually sounding sort of offended for some reason, “You were what, eleven? Twelve? And you just wanted to know who your mom was. He can’t blame you for that.”

Nico just shrugged again, pushing down the lump in his throat, “Well, he does. He can blame me for whatever he wants, and he can tell everyone whatever he wants.”

“But that’s not-”

“Fair, I know. Life doesn’t treat any of us with much fairness, does it? I mean, look where we are.”

Jason didn’t seem to know what to say to that.

There was a long pause.

“I heard my mother. She,” his voice wavered dangerously (he was a horrible son, could barely think about his mom without wanting to cry), “she used to tell us stories. All sorts of things. Legends about the ghosts of Venice. Greek heroes. My weird grandfather’s adventures in the First World War. She was a singer too. She was really good. I think she could’ve been famous, in time.”

“She sounds like an amazing woman.” Jason said gently.

“She was,” Nico agreed, clearing his throat. After another moment, he continued.

“I heard… I heard these asshole bullies from back when I was a kid.”

“You still are a kid.”

“So are you. And technically I’m old enough to be your grandfather.”

A snort, and a pause. “…Why were they bullying you?” Cautious.

Nico looked away. “Usual reasons, I guess. Bianca punched one of them in the face, actually, so hard his tooth fell out.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “Gods.”

“She was eight.” He added.

Jason let out a disbelieving laugh. “Don’t wanna make anyone in your family angry, huh?”

“Probably not.” He agreed, “Hazel could kick your ass. So could I.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

There was another pause. Nico bit his lip, unsure if he should continue. He sighed shortly.

“I heard… I heard Percy telling me my sister was dead. How he tried but he couldn’t save her. How he was sorry. And it was like… it was like it was happening all over again. She was dead all over again. It was really cold.”

He flinched when he felt Jason’s hand on his shoulder. The son of Jupiter stopped walking, and turned to face him, putting his other hand on the other shoulder. He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it, and seemed to decide on something, before he slowly, like he was giving Nico a chance to back away, pulled him into a loose hug.

Nico blinked. “You sure like hugs, don’t you?”

Jason pulled back (and was it a trick of the dim Tartarus light or did he _flush_ a little?), smiling sheepishly, and shrugged, “Not too good with the whole 'comforting with words’ thing.”

Nico snorted, “You and me both.”

Jason’s eyes softened again in that odd way from before. His hands lingered on his shoulders nervously.

“Thank you, for telling me all that.”

Nico blinked again. He shrugged, “You told me everything,” he muttered, “It was only fair.”

“Still… thank you. And,” He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, “I’m sorry about your sister, and your mom. I know it doesn’t mean much now, coming from me but. But I would’ve loved to meet them.”

He sounded extremely genuine, which sort of made it hit harder. This genuine boy who barely knew him, genuinely sad for him. Huh.

(Though, after all this, Nico supposed he knew him more than most people did. He didn’t know what to think about that. He blamed hell.)

“Thank you.” He blinked the heat out of his eyes, “I’m sorry about your mom. And, y'know, the whole Hera thing. That really sucks, having your memory taken away. It’s really violating, in a way.”

Jason nodded. “I always forget about your whole casino thing. It’s so _weird.”_

“You’re tellin me. Really fucks up your sense of time.”

Jason smiled. Nico gave a small smile in return, if a bit sardonically.

“Well, this was good therapy session.” Jason said, stretching his arms out, and gave a sarcastic grin, “But I have a sudden craving for spicy fire water.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up almost two months late with starbucks*
> 
> i'm really sorry for the super sporadic updates, my interests have been jumping around a lot lately, and i had a sudden pjo mood??? so here we are
> 
> i honestly have no idea where i'm going with this. i had a vague plan when i started this fic like half a year ago but??? i wanted to try more with dialogue this chapter since that's one of my weak points, and i'm also thinking about maybe rewriting various parts of a few chapters, so we'll see if that ever happens
> 
> thank you for being patient with me, and as usual, thanks for reading, and feedback is always v appreciated!


	10. opia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason blinked. And then smiled— he couldn’t help himself. ‘That internet thingy’? And then that endearment feeling again. Gods, this boy was adorable. (And whoa there where did that come from? Adorable? It wasn’t really that weird though, was it? It was just… a fact, right? He could think that without it being weird. It was only weird if he made it weird.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another p dialogue heavy chapter

 

_“And I will never again underestimate the power of anticipation. There is no better boost in the present than an invitation into the future.”_

—Caroline Kepnes, You

.

.

.

“You know what sounds really good right now? Chips Ahoy.” a pause, a glance, “But like, the chewy kind.”

“Mm,” he saw Nico give a little shrug out of the corner of his eye, “I’ve never really had whatever those things are.”

“Cookies. Really good cookies.” Jason’s voice wavered dangerously— he was getting emotional over cookies. “Some would argue they’re better than Oreos, though I prefer not to pick a side. Both are _really_ good.” Gods, he was so hungry.

“Ah.” the son of Hades leaned his head back against the big rock they were resting behind, “You know what else sounds kinda good? McDonald’s french fries.” 

“Gods, you are so right.” he was hungry, good gods, he was _so_ hungry, “You are one hundred percent correct.” 

Nico gave a little huff of something that might’ve been a laugh, if their throats weren’t so dry, and ran a hand through his messy hair.

Another pause, “…There were these things Mama used to make,” he began, spreading his hands out in front of him, “Sorta like ravioli— but not like ravioli? Or maybe a type of ravioli?”

“Like what, tortellini or something?”

Nico snorted, “That was the most American pronunciation I’ve ever heard.” Jason put a hand to his chest in mock offense; Nico rolled his eyes, “But yeah, I guess, something like that.”

A cough, and then another cough, and then a coughing fit that had him doubling over and had Jason’s hand hovering over him nervously, that eventually died down. 

“Anyways,” he continued; Jason pulled back, “she used to make them every once in a while, and sometimes she’d let us help, like, roll out the dough and stuff.” 

Jason raised his eyebrows. All the stories Nico told thus far had to be prompted out of him. The change wasn’t an unwelcome one, just kinda odd. It was nice though— Nico had a vague look in his eyes, and he kept gesturing with his hands while he spoke, albeit a bit shakily.

“And one time— I think maybe I started it? Because Bianca was teasing me about something and I blew some flour at her. And then she flicked some back at me, and- well, you can guess the rest.”

“War?” Jason guessed teasingly.

Nico nodded solemnly. “War. It got all in her hair, and mine, and I think I got some in my eye too.”

Jason grinned. “Who won?”

Nico smiled— a tiny one, a half smile, barely gracing his lips, but it was there, and that’s all that mattered right now.

“Mama was still working while we ‘fought’, but then Bianca accidentally threw some at her.”

“Oh shit,”

The pseudo smile widened, “I remember… she wiped the flour off her face all slowly, and sorta looked at it, and then looked up,” it widened even more as he mimicked the actions he was describing, “I was so scared. But instead of yelling or getting mad, the war turned into a world war.” 

Jason laughed weakly. His chest still vaguely hurt, and the part of his stomach that was exposed stung a little bit, but he barely noticed it. This was… this was nice. The story was nice, put a warm kind of feeling in his chest— not the dry, cracking warmth of trying to breathe down here, but a kind of warmth he hadn’t felt in a while. 

He didn’t have any memories like that, not really. Most of what he remembered from his Camp Jupiter days were based around his training. The light, fun memories and friends he might’ve shared those memories with— he had none. The closest he had to that was the time he spent with Piper and Leo. He’d hoped most of his memory would have returned by now— from what he knew, Percy had recovered all of his— but hardly any of them had. It was… disconcerting, mostly. Disappointing. A little worrisome. 

If they made it out of here, he hoped he could make some more memories like that. He hoped everyone would survive the war. He hoped Nico would survive. Maybe the son of Hades could show him how to make the dish he was talking about, he thought absently. 

He wondered if Nico would laugh if Jason threw flour at him. If he would throw some back. He could picture it almost startlingly clearly— flour contrasting against his dark hair, splattered on his nose maybe. Happy. In the Big House kitchen, possibly— he wondered if maybe Nico had a kitchen in his cabin; it look big enough, and he knew there was one in the Demeter cabin— so very different from the red red backdrop of the hell they were stuck in. 

Yeah, he should ask about it once they got out. 

“Hey, Nico?” or right now, apparently. 

“Hm?”

“You think maybe, if everything goes good and we defeat Gaea and stuff, you could show me how to make the maybe-tortellini?”

There was a pause; he glanced over to see Nico looking at him in a way he couldn’t place. Sorta surprised, sorta confused, sorta pleased, maybe? He looked away when he made eye contact with Jason.

“Um… well, I’m not sure if I ever even learned the recipe. I only ever helped with the dough part.”

“O-Oh, well, that’s fine—“

“But I mean, there’s that internet thingy now, right? I bet we could find a recipe on there. Might not turn out to be the same thing though, since I can’t remember what it was called.”

Jason blinked. And then smiled— he couldn’t help himself. ‘That internet thingy’? And then that endearment feeling again. Gods, this boy was adorable. (And _whoa there_ where did that come from? Adorable? It wasn’t really that weird though, was it? It was just… a fact, right? He could think that without it being weird. It was only weird if he made it weird.)

And then he realized that Nico was pretty much saying yes to his offer, and that nice warm feeling in his chest spread a little more. 

“Yeah, I bet we could,” he agreed, “And if it’s not the right thing, we could always find another one.”

A pseudo smile again. A hand brushing the hair out of his eyes again. “…You think maybe Hazel would wanna help too?”

“Definitely. We could make it a party.”

“A three person party?”

“Those are the best kind, if you’re with the right people.”

The son of Hades seemed to consider it for a moment, head propped up on his arm which rested on his crossed legs, before he glanced at him.

“Three person party it is, then. Gotta remind you though, I haven’t been to any parties since the forties.”

Jason laughed, “I’ll show you the ropes, grandpa. You’ll fit right in.”

“Shut up, you’ll technically be the youngest one there. The teenager in a group of old ass people.” 

“Damn, you’re right. I’ll be on my best behavior then.” 

Nico laughed this time, nothing like the forced laughter that echoed and cracked back in that cave. It was still a little rough, like it scraped against his throat, but it was so much nicer. It was genuine. 

“Though… I might be shit at cooking. Haven’t tried it in a while— no kitchen in the Underworld, or, y’know, edible food.”

“You’re Italian though,” he pointed out, “Isn’t it like, in your blood?”

Nico raised his eyebrows, “That is some stereotypical bullshit.” he said matter-of-factly, “I knew this one guy, he was the most stereotypically Italian dude I’ve ever met, and he was shit at cooking.” 

“Really? I feel like you’re making that up.” he teased lightly. 

Nico frowned, nose wrinkling, crossing his arms, “What are you, American, right? You good at like, shooting stuff or something? Eating McDonald’s?”

“Pfft, you were the one talking about their fries like five minutes ago, Mr. Refined Italian Taste.”

The son of Hades shook his head, jokingly (probably?) disapproving, “Stereotypes. My ‘refined Italian taste’ can enjoy the occasional fry or two.” 

Jason put his hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright.” a wistful sigh, “Fries sound so good right now though.” 

Nico let out a similar sigh, leaning back again, “Yeah.”

“Soon, though. Soon. I am gonna stop at the nearest Walmart and buy like five Chips Ahoy packages. Then I’m gonna go to McDonald’s, and get enough fries to feed small army. And I’ll get you whatever you want. Big Mac? A milkshake? Two milkshakes? You name it.” 

There was a silence, and he looked over to see Nico rubbing at his eyes, blinking dizzily like he was trying to clear his head, “You… you really don’t have to. I’m not even really that hungry, anyway.” he mumbled after a moment. 

Jason raised his eyebrows in disbelief (and a bit of worry) “Dude, I’d buy you the entire damn restaurant if I had the money. You’re the only reason I’ve made it this far. If we make it out of here— _when_ we make it out of here, I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”

Nico adamantly avoided eye contact, doing that nervous fiddling with his ring again, thin fingers twisting it rhythmically. 

“And you don’t have to. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you either. Hell, I…” he paused, pulling his legs to chest, “I probably would’ve given up, if it was just me again. Hazel would’ve been able to lead you to the doors, and there would’ve been no more use for me.”

“Nico…” 

“There would’ve been no point in me trying to make it through again— I was weak and tired. I would’ve given up.” 

Jason felt his heart sink at the certainty in his voice, felt something like fear shoot through his veins.

“But,” he cleared his throat, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt now, “since you were here, I couldn’t. I had to get you out— I still have to get you out. Since your stupid self-sacrificing ass decided to fall in with me, I have to keep going.”

He sighed deeply, tired tired eyes glancing at him for a moment, “It sounds weird to like, thank you for being in hell, but…” he shrugged, “thanks for… keeping me alive and stuff. ‘Cause I’d probably be monster food right now if you weren’t here, so… thanks for taking a vacation to hell with me, I guess?”

Jason looked at this boy, small and huddled against the rock, thanking him for essentially giving him a reason to keep going. And for a moment… he was glad he was down here. Maybe not glad about being in the actual place, but glad that Nico hadn’t given up. Glad that he was here not to let him give up. 

He wasn’t quite sure what to say. He thought that if he tried to say anything he maybe might tear up a little, and he didn’t wanna ruin the moment they had going on.

So he settled for slowly, as usual, giving him a warning and a chance to pull away, setting his hand over Nico’s. He didn’t pull away. Jason gave his hand a small squeeze of gratitude, and hoped the message got across. 

Nico shifted, and Jason almost drew back, but the son of Hades just turned his hand, palm against Jason’s, and gave a small squeeze back. 

And Jason smiled. 

.

.

.

Eventually, they had to get moving again. According to Nico, they’d taken way too many breaks, and had been in the same general vicinity for too long.

A part of Jason agreed— that hadn’t covered very much ground for the last little while. It’d been pretty slow going after the Acheron, and the whole chest wound thing didn’t help much either. The terrain had gotten a lot rockier too, which meant a lot more climbing, and going up and down mountains; not to mention all the monster fighting in between. 

Vaguely, he wondered what time it was. How long they’d been down here, whether it was a day or two, or a week, or maybe even a few hours— how fucked up would that be, Tartarus warping their perception of time that horribly. 

After everything he’d seen in the last few hours/days/maybe even a week who knows, he wouldn’t be surprised. Scared maybe, worried, but not surprised. 

“Is there any way to tell time down here?” he asked, chest heaving from nearly falling into a large crack in the ground. 

“Not really,” Nico answered, sounding almost worryingly out of breath. “I usually measured it in like… monsters I came across. Like, ‘it’s been awhile since I fought that last monster,’ or,” he glanced over to see him rubbing at his eyes, looking vaguely dizzy again, “‘I’ve gotten over these mountains since I killed this other one.’ That type of thing.”

“I guess that might work. It’d be easy to lose track of the monsters though, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, I- I did lose track, so I…” the son of Hades stopped for a moment, supporting himself against a nearby boulder thing, breathing heavily, a hand on his chest. “I…”

“A-Are you ok?” Jason asked, suddenly very concerned because he seemed to be having trouble catching his breath.

“I’m fine,” he protested weakly, waving his arm., “Really, I—“

He propped himself up and took a step forward— and promptly stumbled over himself, just barely catching himself before he fell over.

“Shit, Nico,” Jason lurched forwards, arms outstretched. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I— I don’t know,” his breath came faster, catching in his throat, and he fell against the boulder again, “I don’t… I can’t— I can’t breathe— Jason, I can’t _breathe_ ,”

“O-Oh my gods,” his hands hovered nervously, heart pounding, mind racing because he didn’t know what to do didn’t know what was going on didn’t know what to _do_. 

“I can’t b—“ Nico coughed violently, and would’ve fallen if Jason didn’t catch him, sinking to his knees.

_“Jason_ ,” he sounded terrified, and so was Jason, he had training for this didn’t he something like this— Nico wasn’t wearing any tight clothing so there was nothing to loosen there nothing that would be inhibiting his breathing, he put a shaky hand to his neck to feel his pulse it was racing too fast too _quickly shit shit shit._

“It’s ok, hey, look at me,” his voice sounded desperate, even to himself, but he tried not to let his panic show when Nico’s wide hazy eyes made eye contact with his own.

“You have to calm down, deep breaths.”

“But I ca—“

“Deep breaths,” he repeated, slower, and felt his heart skip a beat as Nico gripped his arm and sucked in a forced, painful breath. He breathed out just as shakily.

“Good, good,” Jason murmured, felt like his own breath could stop at any moment.

Nico breathed in, and breathed out, in, out, in, out, Jason not breaking eye contact even for a moment.

Until he saw Nico’s eyes begin to droop— breath gradually steadying, pulse gradually slowing, but grip weakening, breath stuttering and—

“Nico?” he called, “ _Nico,_ ” but Nico wasn’t responding— he was malnourished and exhausted and hadn’t slept in days and days and his body was shutting down, he’d come so far but he physically couldn’t go any further— was he dying? Was he going to die? Was Nico going to die down here?

Nico fell forwards, his grip on Jason’s arm going slack— Jason caught him carefully, and looked down to see the son of Hades unconscious against his chest. Frantically, he checked his pulse again— alive. 

Alive. He was still alive. Thank the gods, Nico was still alive.

He had seemed dizzy and a bit out of it and nearly breathless for a while, and Jason felt a wave of self hatred for not noticing anything sooner. He was weak and tired and hungry, so focused on himself that he’d barely been thinking about Nico’s health. A second wave rushed through just as quickly. 

The son of Hades had already been down here, alone, and had barely had time to sit and rest for a moment, much less eat anything, before he had been plunged back in.

It was a miracle he had still been standing after all this time. 

He’d passed out earlier, sure, but that had been after he’d used to his powers to tear multiple powerful monsters apart, used his powers on a large scale. There’d been a precursor, but this— this was almost out of nowhere, and the utter terror in Nico’s voice, in his expression, in his eyes, had been enough to tell him that this had never happened before. 

If, after everything, Nico’s body was failing him… Jason was almost positive the only thing keeping him alive was sheer willpower and stubbornness. It was a terrifying thought. 

He had no idea what to do. 

What if Nico couldn’t walk when he woke up? 

What if he didn’t wake up at all?

No. He couldn’t let himself think like that. He wouldn’t let this literal hellhole get to him this badly, wouldn’t let it play on his fears. 

For now- as much as he hated to admit- they had to keep moving. 

He doubted trying to feed him firewater while he was sleeping would work very well, but if it came down to it, if he didn’t wake up soon, he would try it. But he needed so badly to find something for Nico to eat (a part of him was seriously beginning to wonder about the whole ‘eating the monsters thing’ Nico had joked about all that time ago.)

He scooped the son of Hades into his arms and stood up. He tried not to focus on how utterly small he was in his arms, how goddamn fragile, like he could accidentally snap him in half. Tried not to focus on how similar it felt to when he was bleeding out and searching for a hole in the wall. 

Nico would be ok.

Nico would be ok.

Nico would be fine. 

He bent down to pick up Nico’s sword from where it had fallen— and it was way heavier than the small boy made it seem; how he had still been carrying it, Jason had no idea— and hooked it onto his belt. 

He held his gladius tightly in the one of the hands hooked under Nico’s body, and took a shaky step forward.

Nico would be ok, he told himself. 

He’d be fine.

_ He'd be ok. _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up three months late this time (with starbucks)*
> 
> guess who read an entire article thing about different types of italian pasta dishes (since i’ve neglected these boys for so long i decided i needed to put more effort into this lmao)
> 
> (also why is dialogue still so hard for me???)
> 
> (also i really hope that last bit there wasn’t too dramatic? i’ve witnessed smth like that happen before, and it was super scary and i had no idea what to do, so i was kinda playing off that)
> 
> i really am sorry for the sporadic updates, my priorities are all over the place and i had no idea where to go in this chapter (but i spent all of sunday night and early monday morning catching up on Homebound and boy, that put me back into a jasico mood- pjo mood in general)
> 
> honestly, i have no idea where im going with this story anymore lmao, so if you have suggestions or ideas, or just wanna talk about these boys in general, hit my up anytime at [spxcetooru](http://spxcetooru.tumblr.com/) on tumblr
> 
> as usual, thank you for reading and being patient with me, and feedback is always v appreciated!


	11. ineluctable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let yourself fall, didn’t you?” she cut in again, with a smug certainty that irritated him, “Let go so he wouldn’t fall in alone. Heroic— a true son of Jupiter, aren’t you, saving a son of Hades?”
> 
> “What’s that supposed to mean?”
> 
> The head tilted to the left, so far he almost thought it would fall over, “You know exactly what it means.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after a billion chapters of conversation, the plot finally thickens sort of

 

 

_ "And I will show you something different from either _

_ Your shadow at morning striding behind you _

_ Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; _

_ I will show you fear in a handful of dust." _

 

—T.S. Elliot, The Waste Land

.

.

.

He didn’t dream about anything, really— just the dark, a vast expanse of nothing— and for that, at least, he was grateful. He had made the mistake of dreaming down here before, and wasn’t too eager to do it again. 

Not Dreaming was easier than dreaming, and easier than staying awake, easier than stumbling his way back into consciousness, easier than trying to process where he was when all he wanted to was go back to sleep. 

Nico was tired— exhausted. He felt weak and empty and and shaky, felt heavy, like his limbs were made of lead and his bones were too hollow to support them. 

He was cold too; his hands felt like ice against the burning air, arms folded against his chest, jostling with each step… someone took. Someone who’s arms were holding him firmly to their chest.

With great effort, he opened his eyes— his eyelids were too heavy, and when he lifted them up it was like he was seeing through a layer of gradient film, and a little like he was peering through those thick glasses a second grade friend had let him try on that made him dizzy and hurt his head. He blinked once, twice, trying to clear his vision, but just succeeded in making his head spin, and he groaned at the sensation.

He felt the someone holding him nearly trip over his own feet at the sound. Nico did his best to squint up at the face looking down at him, bright blue eyes and messy blond hair and— Jason. Right yeah of course, of course it was Jason.

“Nico?” he asked quickly, all concerned and worried and surprised and sorta desperate. When Nico’s head lolled to the side in an attempt to look up at him, the son of Jupiter brought a warm hand up to cup his cheek. 

“That’s me,” he managed to choke out through his sandpaper throat, and he’d never seen Jason more relieved— he looked kind of like might cry.

“Oh thank gods,” he breathed, eyes searching is face like he was afraid Nico would disappear. Something in the back of his tired tired mind acknowledged that it was a weird feeling, being looked at like that. “I thought— I thought you might— _gods_ , you scared me.”

Nico was pulled tighter against his chest, and the hand on his cheek slid up to cradle to side of his head against the crook of Jason’s neck. Nico breathed in heavily, arms fumbling to grasp at the other boy’s shirt. Jason really liked hugs.

“Are you okay?” Nico asked. He thought Jason’s hands might’ve been shaking a little, and he seemed really emotional over the whole waking up thing. 

He felt the rumble of a few watery laughs, the vibrations running through his flimsy body, “Who cares? Are _you_ okay?”

“…I guess?” he said against Jason’s neck, “What even happened?”

He felt Jason give another breathy, desperate laugh, “I don’t know. Exhaustion, probably. You— you passed out, and I was so scared you were gonna… I was scared you were gonna die, Nico.”

“…Oh.” he said weakly. 

He was really really tired. 

Jason took a shaky breath and backed up to rest against a rock, not loosening his hold for even a moment. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently. 

Nico took a moment to process the question— he was really _really_ tired, he wanted to close his eyes and never open them again and let his fuzzy mind rest. 

“…Cold,” he said eventually, “R-Really cold. And tired. Kinda thirsty.” he swallowed, trying with shaky hands to zip up his dirty jacket. A larger, warmer hand nudged his out of the way and pulled the zipper up. 

“Gods, your hands are freezing,” there was a really distinct edge to Jason’s voice when he was worried, Nico noticed vaguely, “We need to find you food.”

And he would laugh if he could, but if he did he might start choking again, “None down here,” he drawled, heavy heavy eyelids drooping. “Just fire, remember?”

“There has to be something,” Jason was saying, voice getting further and further away, “The fire stuff isn’t working right— maybe you’ve had too much of it? Or maybe it doesn’t work with stuff like this? Gods, I don’t know. Maybe if we…” and then it was white noise in the background, and black spots danced across his vision. 

And he was really really tired. Tartarus was barely there, irrelevant, nothing but a buzz in the back of his head, sleeping seemed so much nicer.

“…ico? Nico?” that was Jason, probably? Sounded kinda warped, kinda frantic, kinda…

He gave up, and let his eyes close again.

 

* * *

 

Jason first mistook the woman for part of the terrain. 

The glass shattered around her, too. 

He also first assumed the head of the woman he saw was attached to her body, which… no, no it really wasn’t— and wow, there wasn’t a body at all, actually, just a head propped up high on a rocky pedestal, looking down at him as he approached. He gripped his gladius (and Nico) just a little bit tighter.

A large portion of Jason’s worry and anxiety had been lifted when the son of Hades had finally woke up (because he was still there, he was still hanging on, he wasn’t too far gone— _yet,_ a small, traitorous part of his brain whispered, he’s not gone _yet,_ but he could be soon), but it had come back almost immediately after he’d fallen limp in his arms again. 

It was worrying how little dead weight he had to carry— Nico was small, he knew that, he’d carried him not too long ago, but. But he was so light, like he was barely there, like he could fall apart in his arms and disappear before Jason would even realize what was happening. 

(A part of him had been… surprised (?) with the rush of emotion he’d felt in his brief conversation with Nico, surprised with the intensity— the relief that made him feel like he was choking on his words, the sudden spike of fear when he’d stopped responding, the harsh bloom of warmth in his chest when Nico blinked up at him in recognition and actually relaxed (endearment; there it was again, endearment and something like fondness all mixed up with all sorts of anxiety and so _so_ much relief when the son of Hades opened his eyes). 

He’d spent so long keeping his emotions in check with a Roman resilience (no time for personal feelings in strategy, no time for personal feelings when making decisions, no time to be emotional with everyone’s eyes on him all the time) that it was still jarring to let them take over, to throw common sense out the window and let his heart lead the way instead of his brain. Reyna had always joked that his heart outweighed his intellect any day, so. There was that. 

There was that.) 

Nico was too small, and too light, and too easy to keep tucked against his chest clambering over rocky terrain and fending off any smaller enemies that might come their way. 

Nico was too light and too small and Jason was so focused on those scary facts that he’d mistaken the weird woman’s head on a rocky pedestal as part of the terrain.

The woman stared at him, eyes tracing his movements. 

He considered backtracking and going around her, finding some way to avoid whatever this was. They’d barely come into contact with anything other than monsters that were just monsters (the Arai were a… special exception), but this lady seemed… different, somehow. More important. More intimidating. (More dangerous, even though it was just a head, who knew if it could even speak, could do anything other than stare, maybe he could just walk around it without being bothered, maybe—)

“Demigods?” a shrill, piercing voice interrupted his thoughts, and wow, great, it _could_ talk, “That’s new— and odd. No demigods have ever showed up down here before. Are you two taking a tour? Or looking for some entertainment the gods can’t give you?” 

“…Who are you?” he asked cautiously. He wasn’t sure how to approach this… lady? Old woman? Dry wrinkled skin pulled together in something like curiosity. A face framed in brittle, gray hair.

“I’m the main attraction.” He thought if she had hands she would put them on her hips and pose. 

He swallowed. “We’re not here for any kind of show.”

She raised her eyebrows, “You don’t want a look into your future? A glimpse of what’s to come would be valuable to you, right? And to him.” she looked at the boy curled in his arms, and Jason took a step back. 

Nico shivered in his sleep, like he knew she was looking at him.

“You really care about him, huh?” the head went on, unperturbed. “And you’re scared for him, too, aren’t you?” (her eyes were dark, too dark, too intense, looking at him like she could see everything, like she knew everything), “Scared that he’ll die? Scared that he’s already dying? Scared that—“

“Stop,” he cut in, matching her gaze. 

She looked amused, like this was the most fun she’d had in a long time, and sighed, “I used to have someone who cared that much about me. Cared about me so much, he made me nearly immortal— I’d live as long as the last speck of dust, he said, and look at me now.” 

She definitely looked like she should be dust by now, he thought vaguely, with her ageless eyes and her paper skin, stretched tight around her cheekbones and held together by nothing but a god’s promise. Her cracked lips were pressed together in a thin line, and her eyes were hard. 

Her eyes were bitter, too— hateful. _She_ was bitter, he thought, and hateful, because she’d been given a curse instead of a blessing, and… the glass around her were the shards of a jar, because— 

“Sibyl,” he breathed in sudden realization, trying to put the pieces of the story together, “You… you could see the future and stuff, and Apollo, he… fell in love, right? And—“

“And when my body was too old and dead, he stuck me in a jar and put me on _display_ for the world to ask me questions,” she finished harshly, and he flinched back.

“ _‘When will I fall in love?_ ’ they’d ask, _‘When will I die? When will you die? Will the world end in my lifetime? What should I eat for breakfast tomorrow_ — ha!”

It was a more of a shriek than a laugh, made his ears ring, reminded him of those harpies screaming in his sister’s voice. 

“Why are you down here?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She shriek-laughed again, “They kept me locked up like that for ages,” she drawled, “Like an exhibit in a museum instead of a woman.” 

There was a vicious edge to her voice that made him grateful she didn’t have any limbs or weapons. 

“And he forgot about me, ran off with countless other girls— prettier, younger. _Free_.” she sneered, “I grew to hate Apollo. I grew to hate his relatives— his father, his lovers, their _children_ — I hate them all. And he knew that. He grew tired of my hatred, and tossed me over the edge.” 

“It got me out of the jar, at least. Trapped me in a new one.” she eyed the remains of her prison like was a victor, before locking eyes with him again, “Who locked you up?”

Jason blinked, caught between the casual feel of the conversation and the underlying tension— he didn’t know what kind of damage, if any at all, she could even do, and he didn’t really want to find out. 

“It was… more of a quest thing. We—“

“Let yourself fall, didn’t you?” she cut in again, with a smug certainty that irritated him, “Let go so he wouldn’t fall in alone. Heroic— a true son of Jupiter, aren’t you, saving a son of Hades?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The head tilted to the left, so far he almost thought it would fall over, “You know exactly what it means,” a pause, “Do you pity him?”

“What?”

“Do you pity him?” she asked again, “Is that why you fell? Is that why you _care_ so much? Is that why you’re helping him now?” 

Jason reeled back at the accusation in her voice— like she knew him, like she knew Nico, like they were nothing but interesting characters in a fucked up game.

“I’m helping him,” he ground out, “Because he doesn’t deserve to die down here— he doesn’t deserve to die at all, he doesn’t deserve to be down here at all. He doesn’t deserve everyone’s judgment, and he doesn’t deserve to waste another second near you.” 

The woman— could you even call her that anymore? (a shrunken imitation of what once was human, of what could’ve been human if the gods hadn’t interfered)— looked at him searchingly, dark eyes boring into him. 

“Do you pity _me_ , then?” 

And he actually thought for a moment, looked at what was left of this bitter woman, and said: “Yeah. I really, really do. You’re bitter, and you’re alone, and that really sucks because nothing was ever really your fault.”

“…I see.” She hummed vacantly, and glanced back at him, “Very well. A question for a question, I suppose.”

“I don’t—“ he stopped himself to think, “Is there any food down here? Anything that’ll help?”

If she had shoulders, she would be shrugging, “Perhaps.” 

“…That’s it?”

“Yep.” 

He wanted to ask again, make her tell them what the hell she was talking about, but that perhaps was… not a yes, but not a no, so. So there was a possibility. He could work with that. 

“Can we… go, then?”

“If you want to.”

He blinked. “You’re not gonna, like, do anything?”

“What would I do?” she asked, amused. 

“I don’t know, just— that’s how these things go, usually. I thought you hated us.”

“I hate the gods, yes— and you are the gods’ children. But,” and suddenly she grinned, the edges of what was left of her lips curling horribly, and the mood shifted almost violently, “you’re down here, in hell with me, and I think that shows how loyal they are to you— you’ve been disregarded, _abandoned_ too.”

Jason couldn’t stop himself from flinching back at every word she spat out, because _that wasn’t true it wasn’t true they cared they had to they would get out._

“I will not harm you,” she continued, “Tartarus and it’s inhabitants are doing that for me. You are _alone_ down here, trapped in a huge rocky jar, just like me.” and she _laughed_ again _,_ that awful shriek,“There’s nothing worse I could do to you, sons of _uncaring_ gods. You will die down here, and they won’t bat an eye.” 

That wasn’t true, he thought, that _wasn’t true, it wasn’t true, it wasn’t—_

(But— but. but his father had never once visited him after his mother left him at camp, never once given him any kind of sign— he was put on a pedestal built by a man who’d never once acknowledged him, so why would he start now? And it was startling when Jason realized— he hadn’t even _thought_ about relying on his father’s support to get them through this, never even _considered_ the possibility of asking him for help, and that— that was exactly the point this woman was making, and she knew it.)

She stared, face twisted in an ugly grin, and he stared back. 

There was nothing he could say, no witty comeback he could come up with. She stared, and he stared, and it sunk in. 

They were alone, he and Nico against all of hell, against all the creatures the gods caged instead of defeated, because they couldn’t be defeated, ultimately. They would reform, but he and Nico? They wouldn’t even have the luxury of turning to dust. They’d— they’d stay down here until something happened to their bodies— would their souls even make it back _up_ to the Underworld? Would their souls be trapped down here too? If they didn’t get out now, would they ever? 

“We— “ he swallowed and started again when his voice cracked, “We won’t die down here. We won’t.”

She looked as unimpressed as a shriveled head could. “Really?” she asked, “Are you sure?”

_“Yes,_ ” he snapped back, and hated that horrible, knowing smile, like she was in on a cosmic joke he’d never know.

“I see only suffering in your future, Jason Grace, son of _Jupiter._ You will have to make many choices, none of which you will like.” her voice grew deeper, clear and sharp like a knife, “And that boy— that son of Hades. The gods have already done him so much wrong, and so have their children. So have _you,_ Jason Grace. And if you don’t do something, there’s worse to come. He will _die_ in your arms.” 

His eyes snapped shut at the sound of her ugly, awful laughter— he wanted her to stop, stop talking, stop laughing, he wanted to stop it himself, wanted to stop it for good, and the thought scared him. 

“And, well, if you do survive,” she said dismissively, still giggling, “Tell old Apollo that the lover he tossed into hell says hi.”

.

.

.

_Tell old Apollo that the lover he tossed into hell says hi._

_And, well, if you do survive, tell old Apollo._

The woman’s words had shaken Jason more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. They rung in his head, too loud and too clear. 

_I see only suffering in your future, Jason Grace—_

_something worse to come, he will die in your— die in your arms—_

_there’s nothing worse I could do to you, sons of uncaring gods._

_Tell old Apollo—_

at this point, Jason thought, they wouldn’t even get the chance to. 

_Sons of uncaring gods._

At this point, Jason thought, maybe the god wouldn’t even listen. Maybe he hadn’t been listening in a long time; maybe none of the gods had been listening. 

(Then what was the point? he thought. Why were they always trying so hard for gods who had better things to do than stick around with their scattered families? Why was he always trying so hard to live up to the name of a man he’d never seen? Why were they down here?)

He held Nico a little tighter against him, his other hand gripping his glades so tight his fingers ached. 

_You will die down here, and they won’t bat an eye._

At this point, Jason thought, she was probably right. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ye s, i used poetry ok it's one of my fave poems and those are some of my faves lines alrig h t sue me)
> 
> (also, first time switching pov's in the same chapter but it was necessary whoops)
> 
> so ik i said i wouldn't take 10 more months to get the next chapter out, but,,,,,,i lied, i really just lied, im super sorry im a liar- but for real it's been almost a year and i've only gotten 11 chapters out rip me but!!! i still haven't given up i'll finished this damn fic i s2g
> 
> also: sibyl. i had an epiphany when we we read some poem in class a million years ago that referenced her and i was like,,,,,i can do something with that i can finally have a real life plot point bless (even if i was probably a little too over the top i was just super excited about it)
> 
> anyways, kudos to you if you've stuck around this long, pls don't give up on me yet i'm still here (and if u ever wanna talk about these bois or rlly anything in general hmu at [spxcetooru](http://spxcetooru.tumblr.com/) on tumblr)
> 
> as always, thank u for reading, and feedback is always super appreciated, the light of my life, all i need to keep going


	12. desolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nico,” he said, with an edge to his voice Nico didn’t recognize, “Hey.”
> 
> “Hey,” he muttered back, a weak smile spreading across his face. “How’re things?”
> 
> Jason laughed, a scratchy wet sound, “They’ve been better,” he admitted, “They just improved a lot, though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember the beginning of summer when i was like 'yeah I'll write a bunch this summer!!' and now i'm starting the 2nd quarter of the school year and i just barely got this out i am so sorry rip me
> 
> (also this one was??? weirdly emotional for me to write???)

 

 

_“Life is the tragedy,' she said bitterly. 'You know how they categorize Shakespeare's plays, right? If it ends with a wedding, it's a comedy. And if it ends with a funeral, it's a tragedy. So we're all living tragedies, because we all end the same way, and it isn't with a goddamn wedding.”_

― Robyn Schneider, The Beginning of Everything

.

.

.

Once, way way back when he was younger, Nico fell into the Grand Canal on his way home from school. 

It was an accident, of course. He must have dropped something—a ball, maybe, a figurine, some toy that wasn’t worth much but meant a lot to him—and ran to go get it without thinking. He’d gotten to it, whatever it was, but he hadn’t stopped in time, and so he toppled right over the edge into the water below.

Bianca had almost had a heart attack, she told him—yelled at him, more like. She’d helped pull him out of the water (he was soaked and so was his bag and his homework and that would be so much fun to explain to his history professor tomorrow) and shook him a few times before pulling off her own big jacket and draping it over his shoulders. 

“What were you thinking?” she’d asked, all angry and scared because they’d heard stories about little kids falling in and never coming back out.

Mama caught them on the walk home, coming from part time job in the bakery down the street. She’d taken one look at them, and shook her head fondly. 

“He almost died, Mama,” Bianca insisted, “One of these days he’s gonna do something stupid and get himself killed.”

“ _No, cara,_ ” Mama had laughed, running a hand through Nico’s wet hair, “My boy is strong, he’s made it through everything so far. And he’ll make it through everything in the future. Especially when he has you to set him straight.”

Bianca had lightened up at that, leaning into Mama’s side.

When they’d gotten home, Mama had helped peel off the wet layers and washed his hair with warm water and wrapped him up in her favorite sweater (a gift, she’d said once, from your father), shoved a cup of hot chocolate in his hands while she scolded him about being careful, especially around water like that. 

He hadn’t been all that scared at the time—it happened too quickly, he was in and out of the canal in a matter of minutes. But he remembered it later, at night sometimes, when stories about kids drowning in canals were a lot more scary than during the day. His clothes had been heavy, had dragged him down, water had flooded his senses, in his eyes his nose his mouth—and it was dark, under the water, and he of course he couldn’t breathe. 

Bianca was right, he realized later, he eery much could’ve died—if he’d been a bit farther from the shore, if his sister hadn’t been there, if his bag was a bit heavier. He could have drowned. He was a little more wary of the canal after that.

He hadn’t remembered that little snippet of his life until recently, was the thing.

(Last time, the first time, when he fell and fell into the Cocytus and was drowning and sinking and dying, the memory hit him like a freight train and he thought—he thought he saw Bianca on the surface, looking down at him like before like the canal _what were you thinking you could’ve died you have to be more careful_.)

And he could breathe, right now, albeit with a lot of effort, and he wasn’t soaked, but he was heavy and cold and it was dark; he wasn’t in any river or canal, but his ears were ringing like he was underwater.

Feeling came back in stages. His feet were dangling, jostling with each step–and they were steps, but not his steps, because there were warm warm arms holding him against a warm warm chest and he heard a racing heartbeat against his ear.

“Just a little bit further,” he heard, a quiet murmur against his hair, “something's gotta be here, she said.”

_She said_ , Nico thought sluggishly, _she said you have to be more careful my boy is strong I got you you’re mad at me because I left you alone–_

He opened his eyes, because Bianca was standing on the surface waiting for him before so he opened his eyes, and it wasn’t, it wasn’t Bianca–it was Jason, he realized slowly. It was Jason, Jason hadn’t left him behind yet like he probably should have, Jason was holding him tight and steady and whispering into his hair, Jason was standing on the surface waiting for him, and Nico was suddenly so relieved he could cry.

He vaguely remembered waking up like this before, so Jason must have been carrying him for so so long and he still was. Nico didn’t know what to feel about that, because he was so used to carrying himself and now Jason was doing it for him.

His throat felt like sandpaper when he tried to swallow and forced out a small, “Jason?”

The son of Jupiter didn’t trip over himself like last time, but he made this weird relived gasp-sob sound and Nico felt him arms tighten around him.

“ _Nico_ ,” he said, with an edge to his voice Nico didn’t recognize, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he muttered back, a weak smile spreading across his face. “How’re things?”

Jason laughed, a scratchy wet sound, “They’ve been better,” he admitted, “They just improved a lot, though.”

“Why, you find a way out?”

“Nah, but you’re here now.” Jason smiled carefully, like he was afraid to, “That’s even better.”

Nico let that smile settle somewhere warm in his chest. “Whatever you say.”

Quiet, like he was trying to keep it between them and not the rest of Tartarus: "Guess what else?"

“Hm?”

“I talked to this head a while back–”

“What?”

“Sibyl.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

That made Jason smile again, for some reason, “We had a weird conversation, but she said–she said there might be food down here.”

He sounded so damn hopeful it made Nico’s empty stomach hurt.

“What d'you mean?”

“Well–I mean she didn’t say it _explicitly_ , but I asked if there was anything that could help, and she said–well she said ' _perhaps'_ , but that’s not a _no_ , so there’s probably something.” He stuttered, still so damn hopeful, but the words were fragile, like if Nico said anything against them they would fall apart.

So he didn’t point out how obviously Sibyl was fucking with them. There was nothing down here–it was a place for monsters. But he didn’t wanna ruin whatever was keeping Jason going at this point.

“How long’ve you been carrying me?” He asked instead.

Jason just hummed noncommittally.

“I can,” Nico coughed, “I can walk, if you’re tired.”

“No, I’m fine,” he said quietly, “You–you’re not that heavy.”

Nico snorted, “You could probably carry _Mrs O'Leary_ , superman. Doesn’t mean you gotta.”

“Mrs O'Leary?” He repeated, instead of reacting to Nico’s other comment.

“Hellhound,” he said as his only explanation.

Jason just nodded, like he was used to these things by now.

Nico shifted in Jason’s arms, “I really can walk,” he said again, “I gotta be ready when we run into anything else.”

Jason seemed hesitant, “You _passed out,_ Nico.”

Nico shrugged, “Everyone’s passed out at least once in their life. I can walk, Jason; you can’t carry me all the way to the Doors.”

Jason frowned, “Are you sure?”

“ _Yes,_ Jason, I’m sure. I’m not fragile.”

“I know!” he amended quickly; Nico heard his heart beat speed up a bit, “I didn’t say you were, I’m just…it was _scary_ , Nico. I thought you were dying—you might still—it might happen again.”

Nico was quiet for a long moment, hyper aware of the way he was curled against Jason’s chest, head tucked in the crook of his neck. One of his hands supported the back of Nico’s head, holding him like something precious. Some little part of him wanted to give in and stay all warm and small and protected as long as possible. The rest of him wanted to get out of it as soon as possible because no one had looked at him like that in years and it was overwhelming. 

“I’ll be fine, Jason,” he said eventually, “And if it does happen again, you’re here.”

Jason opened his mouth, then closed it again, like he was holding something back. He sighed, stopped walking, and said, “Okay. Okay, alright.”

Slowly, his arms unfurled, and he bent down to ease Nico onto his feet. Nico swallowed, biting down a curse when he had to grip Jason’s arms to steady himself. If his hands shook a bit when he pushed himself up, Jason didn’t point it out, just held him steady with his big warm hands, so fucking gentle it kinda made Nico want to cry.

He didn’t, of course. Once he got his footing, however wobbly, he mumbled “I’m fine,” and gestured for him to keep walking.

He got about five steps in before the world reeled and his goddamn legs gave out.

“Fuck,” he cursed, falling back into Jason again, blinking back angry, frustrated tears because he couldn't even _walk_ by himself. Jason didn’t look surprised, just all concerned and a little afraid, and that somehow made it worse, because that meant that Jason _expected_ him to fall again because Jason had been carrying him for so long because Nico was too damn weak to carry himself. “ _Shit.”_

“Hey,” Jason said softly—so damn softly—cupping the back of his head when he buried his head in his chest, “Hey, it’s fine, Nico, you’re fine.”

He didn’t bother trying to get his footing again, because he didn’t think he could handle falling a third time; just wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck.

He swallowed reflexively, trying to get himself back under control.

“I just—“ he tried to breathe, “I’m not _weak_ , okay, I’m _not—_ ”

“I know,” Jason said, so damn quietly, “I know you’re not, I know. But like you said, I’m here, and you’re not _heavy,_ Nico,” he pulled back to look Nico in the eye, “You’re not weighing anyone down, okay?”

Nico held the eye contact as long as he could before he had to look away—it was too much, Jason was too damn much and he could always see right through him and that wasn’t how it was supposed to work.

“You shouldn’t have to carry me.” He said flatly, glaring at nothing.

He felt more than saw Jason shrug, “ _You_ shouldn’t have to carry _me,_ but that’s what you’ve been doing this whole time. It’s okay to let other people help you, sometimes. Shit, especially down _here._ ”

Nico worried his bottom lip between his teeth, stubbornly refusing to look at him, because he was hungry and he was thirsty and he was so so tired and he felt like if Jason looked at him all nice and soft again all his resolve would crack and he wouldn’t ever be able to stand back up.

“You don’t have to do everything all by yourself.” Jason said. 

“But _you_ shouldn’t have to do it for me either,” Nico huffed fisting his shaking hands in the dirty remains of Jason’s shirt and glaring, “You weren’t supposed to be down here in the first place, it’s not your—your _responsibility_ to make sure I make it out, you’re the one,” he gripped Jason’s shoulders, “You’re the one who has to make it out, remember? You can’t do that if I can’t pull my own damn weight!”

“You’re not heavy,” Jason said again, and Nico hated him for being so calm when he felt like he might shake himself apart, “And see, that’s how these things work—when you can’t carry your weight, I carry it for you. You’d do the same for me, I know you would. You wouldn’t leave me behind.” 

“Because you’re _important_ —“

“So are _you,_ you’re important.”

Nico huffed in frustration, “Nobody—“

“Your value doesn’t come from people who don’t know you.” he said firmly.

Nico scowled, “ _You_ don’t know me.”

“I do know you—or at least I’d like to.” Jason searched Nico’s face for something he wasn’t sure of, “I know you frown a lot but you’re kind, and I know you love you sisters more than anything in the world, and I know you were willing to fall back down here to save everyone else. You’re selfless, and smart, and so damn good with your sword I’m kinda jealous,” he smiled like he was trying very hard not to cry, “You’re important to _me,_ Nico. I’m not gonna leave you behind.” 

Nico was able to hold eye contact a lot longer this time, and there was something very open and vulnerable about the way Jason was looking at him. It was confusing, and bright, and Nico couldn’t look at it for very long.

“You’re stupid.” he said eventually. 

“Probably,” Jason agreed. 

“You’re too nice—you’re gonna get yourself killed doing that.”

He shrugged, like it was no big goddamn deal, “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

Nico opened his mouth, but he really had nothing else to say. Jason looked at him for a moment, waiting; when Nico held out his silence, he gave a grim smile and said, “For now, let’s keep looking, okay? There’s gotta be something down here.”

.

.

.

Because he still had a tiny shred of dignity left, Jason let Nico climb onto his back and hook his arms around his neck and legs around his waist instead of dangling in his arms like some damsel in distress. It didn’t really make him feel any better about it all, but it was something. 

If his arms were getting tired, that didn’t matter, because Jason’s arms were probably super sore from carrying him for hours, and it probably hadn’t even been thirty minutes yet. 

(His arms were getting kind of tired, though, so he locked them into place, hands holding opposite wrists instead of gripping Jason’s shoulder, because that probably wasn’t very comfortable for the son of Jupiter either. He just prayed his hands weren’t shaking again.) 

His head had gone from being upright and alert to resting in the crook of Jason’s neck when he started drifting off, so he didn’t notice the black, crumbling columns surrounding what looked to be some kind of alter (?) until Jason stopped abruptly at the top of a ridge. 

Nico lifted his head blearily, and peered down into the deep depression below them and yeah, that looked kinda like an alter? His vision was a little blurry, which probably wasn’t a good sign.

“What is that?” he heard Jason mumble.

“We should,” Nico coughed the gravel out of his voice, “We should probably check it out.”

Jason hummed in agreement, and glanced around until he found a reliable way down that wouldn’t send them falling to their deaths after all they’d been through. Nico was shaken out of his groggy daze as he was jostled on the way down, tightening his grip to keep himself from shaking free. 

As Jason got closer, Nico confirmed that it was, in fact, an alter. Relatively small, made of dark, dusty stone. How it had gotten down here, Nico had no idea.

“How the hell did _this_ get down here?” Jason asked, voicing Nico’s question. Nico just shrugged; his head hurt too much to think about it. 

“Here,” Jason murmured in warning, slowly easing Nico off of his back. When Nico’s knees buckled again (he was too tired to care about it anymore), Jason spun around and caught him. He lead him over to sit down against the alter wall. 

Nico sighed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes for a moment. 

“You okay?” Jason asked.

“Mhm,” Nico hummed in response, forcing his eyes back open so he wouldn’t drift off again. 

He felt Jason walk around the walls and check behind the columns, eyes tracing his movements until he sat down heavily next to seem, seemingly satisfied with their relative safety, for the time being. 

“Who do you think this shrine is for?” he asked after a moment, probably just to break the silence. 

Nico shrugged again, “Dunno. If it was built for any god, I got no idea how it would’ve ended up down here.” 

“It definitely seems out of place,” Jason added, “So itprobably fell in, maybe? Who knows how long ago.”

“Probably not recently—few hundred years ago, at least. It looks classic.”

Jason just nodded. 

In this secluded little area, Tartarus didn’t seem as loud. Nico could hardly hear any monster nosies, and the rush of any river was far off. It seemed almost too good go be true, like something bad would happen any moment and everything would be chaos again. Nico didn’t want any more of that, all the terror and fighting and monster dust. He just wanted to rest.

“You should get some sleep,” Jason offered, but Nico shook his head immediately. 

“I’ve probably slept for hours,” he countered, “You’re the one who needs sleep.”

“‘M not that tired.”

“Bullshit. When’s the last time you slept?”

Jason shrugged uncomfortably, scratching his neck like he did when he was embarrassed, or apologetic, or somewhere in between. “I dunno. A while ago.”

Nico arched an eyebrow pointedly, “Exactly. So sleep, stupid, you don’t know when you’ll get another chance."

Jason opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything, there was a loud sparking sound that made both of them jump. They spun around to see a dark grey smoke swirling around on the pedestal in the center of the alter. 

He felt Jason tense next to him, fingers tightening around his gladius, and Nico groped around for his own sword before he realized it was still hooked onto Jason’s belt. He was about to demand it back, but then Jason lit up in something like surprise, and then he was jumping to his feet and into the smoke.

“Wha—? Jason, wait a second—“

“Holy _shit._ ” he heard, and he couldn't tell if it was the good kind of ‘holy shit’, or the bad kind. He pulled himself to his feet to go find out, but then Jason was rushing back out, holding—okay, okay, holy shit was right—a bowl of something that looked like potato salad (?), a few strawberries (??), and a bag of pretzel M&M’s (???). 

“Holy shit,” Nico mumbled, eyes wide. “ _Holy shit.”_

Jason just grinned, dropping back down and gesturing for Nico to sit back down too. He did, eyes trained on those fucking M&M’s the whole time.

“How the hell?” he asked, completely at a loss, “Where the hell did _this_ come from?”

Jason shrugged helplessly, putting it all down in front of them carefully.  “I’m assuming they’re offerings, like the ones we burn at every meal. Which means that this _is_ a god’s shrine—still not sure which one.”

“Holy shit,” Nico said again.

Jason laughed, “I guess that talking head was telling the truth.” 

Nico just nodded, still reeling. He felt bad, now, for doubting Jason—but not for doubting Sibyl, because she had a long history of fucking with people. Now, though, now he maybe would have almost thanked her. 

Jason tossed the bag of M&M’s into Nico’s lap, and said, “You’re eyeing them like crazy, man,” before Nico could say anything, “I never really liked the pretzel kind very much, anyway. I’m a peanut kinda guy.” 

Nico huffed out a weak laugh, hands fumbling a bit but still managing to rip the bag open. 

And _gods_ , when he put that first M&M in his mouth—for a moment, he wasn’t it hell, he was up on fucking _Olympus._ He must’ve made some kinda noise, because he heard Jason snort, but he was too focused on how much he had missed these to be embarrassed. 

_“Gods_ , there are so fucking good,” he breathed. Jason laughed this time, and Nico flipped him off deftly. 

He glanced over to see Jason licking the remains of the strawberry messily off his fingers, and raised an eyebrow. Jason shrugged unapologetically, and said “I haven’t had a strawberry in _weeks.”_

Nico smiled vaguely, and flicked an M&M at him. Despite claiming he didn’t like them, Jason popped it into his mouth immediately. Nico couldn’t blame him—he’d probably eat anything right now.

Jason nudged the bowl (definitely potato salad) in his direction, but Nico quickly shook his head. 

“You had like three strawberries, dude." he said, "You eat it.”

“But—“

“I have this whole bag,” Nico pointed out, “and chocolate’s high in calorie, which is good right now, so who’s really winning here?”

Jason smiled a little, but still bit his lip like he was thinking. “How ‘bout we split it?” he suggested.

Nico considered arguing, but the earnest look on Jason’s face told him he wouldn’t win this one, so he settled on nodding. “Yeah, okay.” 

No one had decided to burn any utensils with the bowl, so they ended up passing it back and forth and sipping from it like a huge cup, careful not to spill any of it. Nico had never tasted better potato salad in his entire life. He thought Jason might have even teared up a little.

“...Hey, Nico?” Jason asked after a time, handing him the last little bit. Nico thought that Jason should definitely take it, so he passed it right back.

“Yeah?”

“How,” he paused, “How close are we to the Doors?” 

Nico’s stomach dropped, and just like that, the pseudo-relaxed air around them was gone. His heart picked up and he wanted to leave.

Nico let out a heavy breath, closing his eyes—he hated doing this, hated that the Doors had such an affect on him, to the point where he could feel them, feel the accumulation of awful intentions, “Depends on your definition of close.”

“Like, are we closer than we were a few hours ago? Have we been going in the right direction?”

Nico nodded, trying to find his voice, “We’re…close. Not as close as you’d like, but we’re getting there.”

Nico felt Jason breathe in deeply next to him where their shoulders touched, “That’s good, right?”

“Sure.” 

Jason glanced at him questioningly. Nico bit his lip, glanced away. 

“Jason, I don’t,” he started, swallowing the bile threatening to come up, resolutely not looking at the boy next to him, “I don’t think we can do this. I don’t—“ he stuttered, “I don’t think we can make it.”

He felt Jason freeze, and almost regretted the words immediately. Almost, because Jason had to understand what they were up against, and he didn’t, not really, no matter how sure of the two of them he was.

“We can,” Jason said after a long moment; Nico could feel the weight of his gaze on him, “We will. I told you, Nico, I’m not gonna leave you behind, and we’re both gonna get out of here.”

Nico shook his head helplessly, “We haven’t even gotten to the Doors yet, Jason, and we’ve almost died like ten times. If you think what we’ve seen so far is bad…” he trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence. 

“We’ve made it this far,” Jason insisted, so goddamn hopeful Nico felt like he was gonna throw up all those goddamn M&M’s, “We can make it through that, too.”

“No, you—you don’t understand what you’re saying,” Nico said desperately, finally turning to look at him, to look him in the eye—not even bothering to try and hide how terrified he was of this because Jason had to _understand,_ “It’s not like anything you’ve done before, or anything you’ve seen before, it’s like—it’s like an _ocean_ of monsters."

He ran a blatantly shaking hand through his messy hair, closing his eyes because he didn’t know how to find the words to explain this without putting himself back in his worst fucking nightmare, “There are—so many of them,” he continued, “ _So many_ , Jason, an ocean—a flood. They’re guarding the doors, and they’re leaving, and there are some—“ he takes a breath, “some _powerful_ Titans guarding the elevator. And I was so close—so _fucking_ close, but—but I didn’t make it, I ended up as bait in a goddamn jar,” his voice wavered dangerously, and he had to open his eyes—a warm hand on his shoulder he hadn’t noticed until now helped to ground him.

“But this time,” he forced himself to look at Jason again _(just his eyes just his eyes don’t focus on his expression or you won’t make it through this)_ , “They won’t just toss us in a jar, Jason. They know the others are coming, they know you’re one of the Seven—of course they know you’re one of the Seven—and there’s no need for bait anymore, they’ll—they’ll _kill_ us, Jason,” his voice broke, and he had to look away again, because he was weak and felt like he might cry again.

He took a deep, stuttering breath, “I can’t. I can’t do it. I—I can’t get you out of here,” he finally admitted, the one thing he had been terrified to acknowledge because acknowledging something makes it true and now it was out in the open and Jason knew and Nico knew and it was true. “I can’t get you out of here, and I’m sorry.” 

And fuck, fuck, his voice cracked into a sob, his eyes were burning and his vision was blurring and he couldn’t do this, “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t—you shouldn’t have to die down here. You’re going to die down here, and it’s my fault, I’m so—I’m _so sorry,_ Jason.”

He stared down at the ground and couldn’t make himself look up because Jason had trusted him and believed in him and believed he would get him out, and Nico couldn’t, and he didn’t want to know what Jason’s face looked like right now so he couldn’t make himself look up. 

The hand on his shoulder curled around his back and tugged him in, when it should have been pushing him away Jason should’ve been yelling at him angry at him because he couldn’t get him out, but instead he just turned and pulled him him against him and grasped at Nico like he was drowning, and Nico knew this was for Jason’s comfort as much as it was for his.

Jason’s hands shook. Nico had seen him bleeding out and dying and terrified, but he had never seen his hands shake before. 

Nico couldn’t get him out, and Jason’s hands shook.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going back to school in a few days and im Tired™ so this turned out???? p dramatic and emotional rip??? so sorry abt that wow???? but hey, u gotta hit a low point before u can get better and save the day right
> 
> so yeah, i added a lil bit of canon in there but i had planned on that little bit for a while (also, because neither of them are super familiar w/ the people at camp half blood-at least not as familiar to know what kind of food they burn lmao-they don't make the connection like annabeth does in the book, and don't realize it's a direct connection to camp whoops)
> 
> i'm really super sorry for the long wait, and i was super set on writing a bunch of it this summer but then i got busy and kinda got sucked into other things and i kinda forgot abt this fic until someone mentioned it in a rec i saw and i was like !!!!! oh man i gotta continue that!!!!!! if you're still somehow following this fic, a thousand kudos to you bc it updates so irregularly i'm annoyed with myself so idk how ur putting up with me 
> 
> as always, thanks so much for reading and feedback makes me cry! a puppy is born every time u comment!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Damnation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8560957) by [MentalBookShelf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MentalBookShelf/pseuds/MentalBookShelf)




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